


Home //MCYT

by Lericekrispietreat



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Backstory, Elemental Magic, F/F, Family, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Magic, Minecraft, Multi, Original Universe, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, War, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 118,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lericekrispietreat/pseuds/Lericekrispietreat
Summary: In all natural terms, tonight was a perfect night. It was beautiful weather. Everything was glowing in the blood moon's light. The wildlife was buzzing just outside. But Wilbur couldn't stop the tears from forming in his eyes."So this is really it?"Home is where the heart is.But where is home when all of your family is broken apart, when all seems hopeless and you don't know where to go?In this story we will be serving-Fantasy AU Minecraft worldMajor angstPlot holes being filled like~ Where was Technoblade and Philza during the first war of L'Manburg?Who exactly was Sally and where did Fundy come from?3rd person pov ew first person I'm sorry but yeah all sorts of povI'm basically re-writing the Dream smp script but like pick up at act 2 cuz act 1 was so long agoLot's of time jumps (I try to make them followable)THE WRITING GET'S A LOT BETTER THE FARTHER IN YOU GO. LIKE.... 10,000 WORD CHAPTERS SOMETIMES.Started on Wattpad, got 4,000+ view pog. Moved here, hope ya guys like it <3IT'S SO MUCH BETTER ON WATTPAD IF YOU HAVE WATTPAD READ IT ON THAThttps://www.wattpad.com/story/249263195-home-mcyt
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Cara | CaptainPuffy & Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Nothing not canon
Kudos: 7





	1. The Nether

Heat rippling off the ground in illusions of waves, Philza knew he was desperate.

Philza had gone on his "expeditions" before, but he had always avoided the Nether. The dreary landscape of unforgiving cliff drops and lava pools had made the Nether notorious for being a place that people only went to if they had a death wish. In fact, the most popular idea was that the nether was a leakage point of hell. So most sane people kept away from it.

Maybe Philza wasn't sane anymore.

He had walked so far. His feet ached, sand was everywhere in his clothes. He had walked through biomes he had never seen before, fought mobs that he had never killed before, and followed paths that he had never followed before. But despite this, the Nether was still the Nether. All of it was hot, all of it was torturous, and eventually all Philza's individual memories of where each new scratch and each new injury came from all starting to blur together in one dreamlike memory of pure suffering.

Philza was currently taking a detour carefully through a Nether fortress, before he finally stopped and decided that anymore walking and he would overheat and pass out.

Finding a little room off to the side, he snuck in and sealed the door off behind him, grateful that even though every movement and everything he touched was instantly covered in a layer of sweat, he still was not getting his butt kicked by any withers. So far, he had been able to avoid them.

Taking off all the clothes he could spare, only leaving shorts and a tank top on, he threw his stuff into a corner along with his scalding hot and discarded metal armor. No way he could handle armor right now. He couldn't even bear the leather strap of the bag he was carrying. The depressingly quickly emptying bag of worrying food rations.

Granted, when he first came into the Nether, he didn't think he would be in here for more than one day, his food supply being a sure teller of how he's pushing his limits, but Philza had found something that had gotten him excited for the first time in a long time, something that warranted an extra few days in the Nether.

He had found signs of life.

He slid down the walls of the little room he had sealed himself in, letting himself try to cool down in the dark. It was dangerous closing your eyes while overheating, for on account of just simply not waking up again. But Philza needed to spread his resources thin. Dangerously thin. So despite dripping in sweat and his throat burning like he had just swallowed coals, he sat down to take a nap for the first time in the last 24 hours. I'll be fine. He thought. I have to be.

Wrapping his black wings around him to stop the gravely dirt from irritating his skin, he shifted until his body didn't feel like it was going to explode at any second. Everything down here was designed to be deadly, even the sand could suck out your soul if you stayed on it too long. Luckily his wings, courtesy of his fae blood, was a good barrier between him and whatever forces were snatching people's souls.

While his eyes drifted closed, his head was still running. It had been a full day of searching for any clues, any ideas to where she had gone, and he was about to call it another failed expedition. It was a long shot anyways, no pillagers in their right minds would have a base down here. The only reason he was down here anyways was because he had heard that as of recently the pillagers had started using the nether as a shortcut between their bases in the overworld. But that was only as of recently, and, if she was in here, that means she would have had to escape while they were traveling the path in between two portals. A long shot, he knew. But Philza was that desperate.

He had flew so far in the overworld, talked to so many people, destroyed so many pilligare bases. He had killed, interrogated, done favors, bargened, and was just short of selling his soul to get any information of where she had gone. His heart ached, the deep shadow of emptiness and sorrow threatening to close in on him again. It had been a year. Why has it not gotten better?

Philza had left the boys in the care of the neighbors. For practically the last year the whole village had been taking turns watching his three children, there isn't a house that they haven't spent the night in. He's so grateful for the community, allowing him to search for their lost mother, but he carried an overwhelming guilt from the last talk he had with the neighbor he gave the children to the most, Abigail.

Philza was holding his bag, full of fire protection potions and rations for the Nether. It was a 3 day trip to the nearest portal, and he only was going to be there for a day, so at the shortest it would be a 7 day trip. He explained this very carefully to his oldest twins, Techno and Wilbur. They were getting to the age where he couldn't just say he was going to go away for a bit. They were smart, so smart in fact that sometimes they sometimes scared him. So while he explained this, he made sure to talk to the 12 year olds like adults.

"Alrighty. I'm heading off now." Philza smiled at his children, before stooping down to hug both of them. Wilbur laughed in his ear and Techno tensed up, before returning the hug. They knew that every expedition could be his last. So they knew how to return a hug like it would be the last.

Tommy, being five and very chaotic, was already giving Abigail a run for her money in the background. He could hear Abigail's screaming to get off the table, and the defiant childs maniacal laughter. Philza smiled to himself. Tommy was basically a perfect mix of Techno and Wilbur. He had gotten Wilbur's extraverted personality and glowing presence, and Techno's wild streak for destruction. The disappearance of their mother had affected them all, but Tommy definitely was the fastest person to bounce back. He was a wild child.

Philza looked to the faces of his twins, the glowing light from the lanterns in the cabin's kitchen giving them an almost halo on the rims of their silhouettes. He gave them a smile, hoping it wasn't too sad. The pit in his chest, the emptiness, the one that he could often ignore when he had his kids around, was starting to lach it's claws back onto him as he braced himself to be gone for a week. But, he would try his best. He wouldn't be sad now. He wasn't gone yet. So instead, he focused on how quickly his children had grown.

Wilbur and Techno were always together, Techno often standing just behind Wilbur. Philza had noticed that Techno often just let Will do all the talking, but Wilbur took up so much social space that you hardly noticed that Techno hadn't said a thing. It was weird how his two children could look so alike and be complete opposites, but he wouldn't have it any other way. They looked so alike, that they often got mistaken for each other. They both had their moms floppy curly brown hair, slender builds, and terrible vision. Techno wore glasses, but Wilbur for some reason refused to. Philza had told him his eyes were only going to get worse, but he didn't care. Something about it hurting his ears. But other than the glasses, they could very easily be mistaken for each other. They both had the same clothing style, hair, face, and everything in between. But Philza could tell the difference though. Their fae blood, the blood that him and his wife had both given them, were manifesting in different ways. Usually development didn't settle in until the late teens, but Philza had noticed that while Wilbur was showing subtle signs of pointed ears and pointed upper canines, Techno had been showing more predominant downward facing ears and sharper bottom teeth. Philza could see so much of their mother in both of them, every time he stopped and admired them he was brought close to tears.

Tommy on the other hand, didn't look anything like his mother. He was mostly all Philza. Blond hair, unnatural, lanky arms (much like Philza when he was younger), and his already noticeable height. He also hadn't shown any signs of his fae blood, but that was okay. He was still pretty young. But he was still curious who Tommy would take after. It was exciting, thinking about the possibilities. Hopefully it wasn't anything that could cause too much destruction, they'd be in for a wild ride.

Philza finished saying his goodbyes, being tackled once again by Wilbur as Techno awkwardly stood off to the side. He ruffled both of their hairs and called back to Abigail, "I'm leaving now! Tommy! Be good!" He flinched as he heard a huge crash of what sounded to be pots and pans falling and screaming from Abigail.

"TECHNO! WILBUR! COME GRAB TOMMY I NEED TO TALK TO YOUR FATHER!"

Wilbur grabbed onto the edge of Philza's shirt one last time, looking up at him and giving him a big smile before grabbing Techno's hand and dragging him into the depths of the cabin to stop whatever trouble Tommy was causing. "Bye Dad! Come home safe and sound!"

Philza's throbbing heart and genuine smile was cut short by the look that Abigail was giving him when she turned the corner to the doorway of the cabin. Her hair was in a disheveled pony tail, blond strands pulled out this way and that like a grimy little five year old had been yanking at it.

Philza was quick to apologize. "I'm so sorry about Tommy... He-"

She huffed a sigh and wiped off her shirt she was wearing, brushing off dust he couldn't see. "I swear to God I age a year every day you leave me with that devil child." The words were harsh but he could see the slight exasperated smile on her face. "But that's not what I want to talk about."

Philza shifted his bag against his shoulder, an uncomfortable habit he had from his wings often being in the way. Abigail continued, "I know it's coming around that time of year-"

Suddenly, Philza wasn't there anymore. He was in his head. The night of the pilligare attack. He was defending the village. Slaughtering them as they flooded in in the biggest rally they had ever seen. He was defending his house, his children. He fought like a beast. The only problem, his wife wasn't at home when it happened.

Philza shook himself away from the flashback, hoping his hands weren't shaking too much. Suddenly the sword on his hip was very heavy, and his wings were anxious to fly off.

"Look, I know we as a village owe you so much for how many lives you've saved that day." Abigail said, leaving an awkward gap in between her words. Philza didn't like where this was going. "But, I have to ask, is this really healthy?"

It was as if glass had shattered. Philza had been constantly troubled by these thoughts himself, but always he would deny the guilt of leaving his children so frequently by thinking, if he could just bring her back home, it would all be worth it. He felt the black hole in his heart sucking up all emotions, leaving only cold, empty sorrow. But he tried his best not to show it, and instead struggled to swallow as she continued to talk.

"You leave... so much." Abigail shifted her weight, "You're gone for weeks at a time. I know what you are doing, we know what you are doing is a good thing. Trust me," She looked at the floor, "We all want her back."

Philza shut down, his mind a thousand miles away. He was back with her, building their future home together. She had paint streaked across her nose, fluffy brown hair in her eyes, and beautiful pointed ears. He could hear her laughter in his head, smell her familiar scent of woodland trees, and feel the touch of her sweater that she was always wearing. She was right here, yet so far away. He could barely hear Abigail as she continued to talk.

"It's been a year. The boys had already lost their mother. Do you really-" Philza couldn't see straight. A full year. Could it really have been a year already? But I feel like you are always in my head. Always on my mind. You're in WIlbur, you're in Techno. You're in the bricks of our house and the paintings you painted on our walls.

But you're gone.

I just need to bring you back home.

Abigail struggled for words, a grim expression on her face. Finally, after analyzing Philza's distant eyes, she coughed up the rest of her sentence. "Do you really think the boys would be able to handle it if they lost their father as well?"

The conversation echoed through Philza's mind as he sat in his makeshift safe room. Sweat hung to his arms, but it wasn't just because of the heat of the Nether. Suddenly, he couldn't fathom falling asleep anymore. Drying his eyes, he stood up, and stuffed his items back into his bag. He had so many things to worry about, and right now worrying about something that he couldn't change would only get him killed. His mind started drifted away from that problem. He needed to keep moving. He needed to not think about those things. Those are the types of things that will make you lose focus in life and death situations. So, instead he worried about the thing he had found. The trail that he was following. Something that he could use to ignore the growing feeling that his life was crumbling slowly; bits and pieces of him falling into the void. He could forge forward, because he had found something that gave him hope. Something that you would never expect to find in the debts of the boiling landscape.

A trail left over by another human.


	2. Footprints

The ground seemed to grab at Philza's shoes as he walked, dirt pebbles seeming to try and claw their way into his shoes and make his life miserable. Normally, Philza would just fly and this would be an easy trip, but being in the Nether always drains him. Well, it drains most people. Nonetheless, he made the decision to only fly on his way back to the portal, that way he can maybe stretch his food a bit more than what would be considered safe.

Philza's stomach growled. He couldn't wait to get back home and help Techno cook, something he showed quite a bit of enthusiasm for. Techno normally doesn't get excited about much, but the garden in the back was made by him and his mother, their sacred space that they had created together. Philza knows that Techno spends an uncanny amount of time in that garden, but who was he to criticize unhealthy coping behavior. Not like it was more unhealthy than what he was doing.

Wilbur had taken a different approach to coping. He sang. And played guitar. And played the piano. He disappeared to other people's houses for long periods at a time, using every instrument that anyone would lend him for the day. Most of the village thought that this was extremely cute, and he had heard them conspiring to get him a guitar for his next birthday. Philza smiled. Will would love that.

Philza continued to follow the trail, only losing it once. Phil was almost scarily good at tracking, him being a professional adventurer and bounty hunter before settling down. He thought back to the good old days, but he didn't really think of them as the good old days. His peak was never in the endless nights alone he spent hunting criminals down. He had found all the happiness in the family he had created; that was the true peak of his life. But here he was again, putting his past skills to work. Hopefully he wasn't too rusty.

Entering upon a horde of pigmen, Philza pulled his head down and tucked his wings in close, hoping to pass through this mob peacefully. Pigmen were, by scientific theories from the overworld, a type of deformed fae that happened when they got stuck down here. Philza couldn't imagine a person ever evolving into the sticky, bumbling pigs such as that, but nonetheless he would rather not have to slay innocent lives, no matter how de-evolved they were. Well, Philza counted himself lucky. Better another horde of pigmen then a pack of blaze.

Finally, Philza could see the scent that he had been tracking for miles. A discarded bowl of now empty soup laid upside down on the ground about a mile from the pig horde. This was the trail he was following. Pigmen don't use this type of stuff. Excited, Philza opened his wings and flew, carefully looking both ways for any ghasts that might've given him a surprise attack.

Landing just a few feet from the bowl, he smiled gleefully to himself. Is that... footprints?!

He leaned over and looked at the bare foot marks. But something was wrong. These marks were small. Too small. All the hope that he had started to carry deflated in his chest, and in frustration Phil kicked the soup bowl into one of the various lava pools that was bubbling around him. Philza looked out into the empty, burning world, and screamed out of pure frustration, before crumbling to his knees, exhausted.

Sitting in the heat, Phil's muscles twitched. I was so close. It's unfair. Unfair. I get so close. Why? Why has the Gods cursed me? Despite his extreme dehydration he was suffering through, he brought his hands up to wipe his face from his salty tears. He sat on the ground, fires randomly spurring up around him. His body ached. His heart ached. It'd be so easy just to end it. He hugged himself. So many ways to die in the Nether. The boys would never know- they would think I died looking for their-

His head snapped up as he heard something fall, yanking him from the darkness that had been closing in. Heart pumping, he drew his sword and extended his wings to their full reach, creating a massive figure that scares away most small mobs.

"Who's there?"

When nothing responded, Philza took a good look at his surroundings. There was a huge lava pool to his left, cliffs to his back, the nether fortress way in the distance to the Northwest, and a small hill to his right.

"Hello?"

He took small steps to the hill. He's almost a hundred percent certain that is where the noise was from. The entire world seemed to freeze in anticipation, save except the hiss of gurgling lava.

Philza could hear irregular breathing.

Philza had good ears, part of the fae package, but he didn't trust what he was hearing. There was no way that somebody was actually here.

Philza swallowed a hard lump in his throat, before dropping his sword. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt anybody. Just come out, and we can talk." His voice was raspy, and he held back a cough from the burning toxins in the air.

He heard a sharp breath inward, and thought for a second that the person was about to make a run for it. But instead, over the hill he saw a pop of messy brown hair, followed by a small round faced standing up from his hiding place behind the hill.

Philza's breath caught in his throat. A child.

The child looked not older than his own youngest, Tommy. He was small, thin, and definitely hungry. And the look in his eyes, Philza's heart ached. He was so scared. After the roller coaster of emotions from before, Philza absolutely just melted, draining all energy from him.

"Hello there!" His voice quivered. How? Why? How did he survive?

The child didn't answer, instead shrinking a bit back into himself. He was covered in scrapes and dried blood, and his small green shirt was buttoned messily and ripped short on one side.

"It's okay!" Philza lowered his wings, letting them drape across the floor in the most non-threatening way possible. "It's okay," he repeated in a whisper.

The child stared at him for a long while, not making any noise. Can he even speak? Philza thought. Tommy can speak, so maybe... maybe if he can't speak... maybe he was never taught? After a couple seconds of the stare down and Phil resisting every urge to just go and swoop him up, he slowly and cautiously bends over and grabs his bag, the bag he had dropped when he had thought he was about to get attacked.

The child flinched at his movement, but Philza turned on his dad voice. "Hey, hey there buddy. It's okay. I'm just getting a snack! You want a snack?!" He hushed at him.

Philza pulled out a potato that Techno had given him from the garden, and opened the foil that he had wrapped it in. "You hungry little guy?"

It was a couple seconds, but after a while the little kid climbed down the rocky hill side, till he was only a couple feet from Philza. Philza held his breath. He didn't want to mess this up.

"You want this?" He smiled.

Instead of replying, the child stumbled to him, a small limp in his leg. As soon as he made the first move, Philza couldn't hold himself back anymore. Reaching forward, he leaned over the kid scooped him up, gently placing the potato in his hand as he stood back up. He was so small and fragile in his arms. One wrong move, and I feel like I'll just break him.

The child didn't react at first. Just looked dazed forward, as if wondering just how in the hell had he just gotten himself into this stranger's arms. But quickly he squeezed the potato in his hand before looking straight into Philza's eyes. Philza felt another pull of his heart strings. He was so dang cute.

"Hey there bud." Philza wrapped his wings protectively around him, reaching to his face to try to wash off some ash on his forehead. His voice cracked from dehydration, and he swung his bag back to where he could reach inside. He figured now would be a good time to spare some water. He grabbed the bottle, letting himself have some, before putting the bottle to the child's lips.

The child made no noise, only a dazed look in his eyes. Phil was pretty sure at this point that he couldn't talk.

How the hell does a child survive down here?

How does a child get down here?

Whose child are you?

Philza's racing thoughts stopped when he heard the child's stomach rumble. "You can eat that." He gently pushed the potato closer to his mouth. "Just bite into it." But when the child didn't move again, he just sighed. Well, now what?

I get back home as fast as I can.

Yes. That sounded like a good idea. Philza nodded to himself. He needed to get the child to safety as soon as possible.

Philza carefully opened his pack before pulling out a fireproof potion and splashing it on the both of them. He would walk for a bit, then fly, hopefully to help not scare the child.

It was going to be okay, he thought, you are safe now.


	3. Landing Zones

Technoblade wasn't getting worried.

At least that is what he was telling himself.

His father was now 5 days past the time he said he would be back. Abigail didn't seem to be too worried about it, her constantly reassuring them that they are fine and ushering them outside to play, but it didn't ease Techno's mind.

Wilbur seemed to be fine, at least to most people. But Techno saw it. He was good at reading other people. Reading motives, emotions. He just- He just had no way of using that information. No idea on how to comfort someone, to make a good joke, to change the mood. So he left Wilbur to that. But Wilbur wasn't doing fine. Every villager loved when the three feral kids visited their house, providing entertainment for the night. But Techno could see the forced smile, the unease in his shoulders, the funny way he sat down when he talked to the adults.

Techno couldn't take it anymore.

Seeing Will more anxious made him anxious. Was he worried dad wouldn't come home? Of course he would. He was one of the best adventurers of this generation. Techno should know, he had read books about it.

But he had also been reading dad's mood lately as well.

The past year of their mom being missing has been hard on all of them, but up to this point Dad had seemed to be holding on well. Lately- well, lately Techno thinks he's been... well, slipping.

But there are only two more days. Two more days until the full moon. That's the day that Dad's fae magic is the strongest, and he is able to contact them by performing an ancient ritual. It allows them the talk, between him and the beacon that he had built on the outskirts of their backyard. It was huge, but it had to be to pick up the signal. Two more days until he could see if dad was safe or not.

But for now, Techno was going crazy hanging around Wilbur, watching him lie through his teeth.

So instead of heading back to Abigail's house, he went back to his own house. Entering the two story building, he grabbed the matches and lights all the candles and closes the curtains. He just needed peace and quiet. That's all he wanted.

Technoblade didn't know what to do. How to pass the time. He could go back into the garden, but he really didn't want anybody to talk to him right now. So he sat on the hard living room floor, and laid his back on the blanket that he dragged off of the couch. And he stared at the ceiling.

Mom's disappearance anniversary is this weekend.

The thought made him sad. But he didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to feel sad? His mom wasn't for sure dead after all. Was he being ungrateful that they had a dad who risked so much to bring their family back together? But all he wanted was his dad back home.

Without thinking, he blew out all the candles and walked up the creaky stairs to the upstairs bedroom. He dragged his feet into his parents room, and stood at the doorway. He stood and looked at the bed where they used to sleep, the counter where Mom had used to put her paints, and the cabinet that used to be filled with all of dad's old adventuring gear. Now the paints were tucked away, and the gear was being put to use. In a daze, Techno walked over to the cabinet with the gear, and shifted through some of the leftover supplies. There was leather armor that was way too big for him, cross bolts, extra arrows, potions, and a ton of stuff that he would get in trouble for looking through. But one thing caught his eye. A steel sword.

Techno grabbed the hilt of the sword, the leather coating on the handle and a nice and almost comforting feeling. Standing up, he gripped both hands tightly and gave it a tentative swing. It felt good. Techno smiled to himself, knowing he was doing something wrong. Something he would get in trouble for. But he didn't care. He liked the feeling of doing something dangerous. He gave it a harder swing, this time his breath catching as he accidentally scraped the door to the cabinet and leaving a tiny little cut in it.

"What are you doing?"

Techno dropped his sword in panic and put his hands behind his back, wincing as the steel rattled on the floor. Wilbur stood in the doorway, a big mischievous smile on his face.

Techno stuttered for words, not knowing what to say. "Wilbur- I- uhhh-"

Wilbur beamed and jumped on the bed, leaning over the edge to grab the sword that had clattered to the ground. "Wicked." He laughed, giving it a swing himself.

Techno took a step back. "You almost got my ankle!"

"No I didn't!" Wilbur flopped back down on the bed.

Techno didn't have anything to say to this, except let Wilbur explain whatever he wanted to say seeing on how he went out of his way to find him.

"Well, anyways!" Wilbur flung the sword onto the bed and grabbed one of Techno's hands. "Somebody from the village watchtower said that they could see Dad flying in!"

Techno's heart leaped. He knew Dad would be back. He was the greatest adventurer after all. Techno didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Wilbur knew the smile that he was giving. Tugging his hand, Wilbur laughed at him. "Common! We have to be there when he lands! We can't let Tommy be the first person to see him!"

Techno and Wilbur arrived at the landing zone, the space so affectionately named because it was Philza's favorite place to land. Tommy was already there, a devilish look on his face.

"I got here first~" He stuck out his tongue at his older brothers. "I got here beefffooreee you!"

Wilbur smiled and gave him a little punch on the arm. "It's only 'cuz sleepy-boy over here was slacking on Dad watching duty."

Techno didn't say anything, instead taking off his glasses to wipe them of dust and grime so Dad wouldn't say something about it when he got home. He hated waiting, seeing standing and doing nothing in front of other people being terribly unbearable, so he fidgeted with his pockets of his turtleneck, something that wore to help with his anxiety.

"Do you think he brought back any treasure?" Tommy rattled on to Abigail. "Or any gold!" he gasped a little, a realization on his face. "What if he got us a pet!"

Abigail laughed gently. "No, I don't think he'd be able to carry a squirming pet all the way back. Plus, he said he was going to the Nether. I don't think you want a pet from there."

Tommy didn't change his opinion though. He continued to rattle off as Technoblade ignored him and looked to the sky. He watched the midday clouds with anticipation, anticipation building up from the entire time he was gone. You never know how dad was going to come back home. Sometimes he was hurt, sometimes he was safe. Sometimes he was happy, sometimes, even though he tries to hide it, he's gloomy. And sometimes he actually does bring stuff back.

There. Techno's eyes spotted him in the distance, his green clothes standing out against the blue sky.

"Techno's seen him!" Wilbur smiles and leans on his shoulder, knowing that look on his face.

Tommy jumps to the spot that Techno was standing and tries to line up with where Techno was looking, forcing Techno to duck away under the weight of the two siblings jumping on him. "How!" Tommy yelled. "I don't see anything!"

"Maybe you need glasses like Wilbur." Techno said quietly.

"Wilbur!" Tommy said, ignoring Techno. "Do you see him?"

"No," he laughed. "I need glasses, remember?"

Techno rolled his eyes at the useless conversation. He didn't understand how Wilbur could be so patient. He liked when Wilbur could just... read him. Not have to do any talking. It was so much easier. Normal conversations... they weren't his thing. But Techno did like doing one thing. He liked scaring other people. Instilling fear. But after scaring Tommy so many times, it just wasn't fun anymore. And he couldn't do it to Wilbur, he just knew too much about him. And no adult was scared of him, so he hadn't done it in a while. But that is what he would say would be a non-useless conversation. One where he gets to see terror in the other person's eyes.

Shaking himself from his train of thought, Techno noticed a significant amount of relaxation in Wilbur's aura, no longer so stressed. He smiled to himself, watching his twin squint at the sky. If only he would just wear glasses like a normal kid. Techno thought.

Philza was getting extremely close to them, occasionally disappearing in their views behind trees. But finally he was so close enough that he read his body language.

Ah. Techno thought. This is one of those happy times.

Techno had long since given up believing that every expedition would lead to mom coming back. Didn't mean that he had given up hope, but more realistically he had started to believe that it was more likely that dad would come home with either information or revenge on the people who had taken her. But the excitement he could read today, even knowing that he didn't have mom, was a feeling that got Technoblade excited.

Philza closed his wings, plummeting to the ground before opening them last minute to catch his fall. He's such a show off. But he is really cool.

Tommy cheered, Wilbur hollered and clapped his hands, and Abigail came up beside Techno, placing her hand on his shoulder despite the fact that she knows Techno hates being touched. Wind blew over them and a couple of leaves blew up from the ground, and instead of immediately opening his wings like he normally does, Philza's voice was muffled behind the mass of black wings.

"I have a surprise~!"

Tommy and Wilbur practically exploded with excitement as Technoblade brushed off Abigail's hand. Slowly, Philza opened his wings, and revealed something in his arms.

Wait-

Someone.


	4. Toby

Tension ran through Technoblade, tension that nobody else seemed to share at the dinner table. 

Wilbur and Tommy were absolutely out of their minds, Wilbur dotting on the new addition, and Tommy was going absolutely wild trying to ask the poor child every question under the sun. Dad had brought the small child in and had immediately sat him on the edge of the sink, throwing the dishes to the side and running the water to wash off his numerous scrapes and blood stains.

Philza had asked Techno to set the table for dinner and to pull out some food for our guest, and he had done so while Dad was having a conversation in very hushed tones with Abigail. They both seemed aggravated, but was trying to keep it reigned in because of the child. Abigail had left, refusing the offer to eat dinner with us, looking quite flustered and if Techno was reading her right, exasperated.

Techno sat with perfect posture in his spot, while Wilbur buzzed with excitement next to him.

"Where did you find him!" Tommy bounced across the room.

Dad responded softly, "in the Nether." His voice sounded shot.

"Woah!" Tommy said, poking at the child who to this point had seemed to be very shell shocked from the over-exposure to Tommy. "Is he special? Are we going to keep him? What does he eat?"

Techno, very stiff-necked turned and risked a look to the sink. There was an extra child in the house. And boy, did he not like it.

"Leave him alone Tommy." Wilbur got up from his chair and pushed Tommy out of the way. "He just got home! Can't you see that he's hurt?" Wilbur picked up Tommy who was getting a bit too old to be picked up, and pointed at all the burn marks that the child had up and down his arms. The child did not like being looked at, and scooched farther into Philza who was running water over his legs, knocking what seemed to be years of soul sand build up from his feet.

Techno's curiosity got the best of him. "How does a child survive in the Nether?"

Everyone stopped talking, and only the sound was from the fireplace and water faucet. Techno immediately felt like he had said something wrong. Wilbur didn't ask that question, he kicked himself. Wilbur asks the appropriate questions. You do not.

But then Wilbur chimed in, "Yeah, Dad, how does a child survive?"

Techno felt a release in his chest. So he wasn't in the wrong.

Philza thought for a bit, letting himself run water through the child's hair, the little thing shivering a bit and shaking it out of his eyes. "I don't know."

"You don't know!" Tommy screamed.

Techno kept his mouth shut. He was deep in thought. If dad didn't know-

His thoughts were cut off by a little sneeze.

The child in the sink wiped his nose, before sneezing again.

"AWWWWW!" Wilbur leaned against the counter.

Tommy scowled. "He's all broken! You think he's allergic to water?"

Philza laughed. "Okay, I think that's enough for one night." He picked up the now wet child and wrapped him in a towel. "I'm going to take him upstairs and get him a change of clothes and some bandages. You boys behave. Once he's all dried up he'll be sure to have an appetite." Dad picked up the child and, still dripping wet, carried him across the wood floors that Techno had cleaned earlier that day.

Wilbur glanced over at Techno who was clearly trying everything not to completely shut down. "Uhhhh..." He smiled shyly, grabbing a rag from the sink. "I'll get that."

Tommy didn't seem to notice. He just dug right into his food. But Techno didn't move, he was too busy in his thoughts.

It was a good 15 minutes before Dad walked back downstairs with the new child, still being carried around. The child was looking a lot less like a wild animal and more like, well, a normal child. His hair was still wet, but he had a new set of Tommy's P.J.'s on and bandages wrapped up and down his arms and legs. He also had colorful bandaids on his neck and face, covering the various scrapes he had. Techno couldn't help but note how frail the child really was. He couldn't even fathom how he had survived.

"Who's hungry!" Philza smiled as he sat with the child in his lap.

"I am!" Tommy reached to snatch Techno's food, even though Tommy had already finished his portion that Techno had given him. Techno gave him a quick swat on the hand, and turned to pick up his fork for the first time.

Tommy rubbed his hand and frowned like a brat, before moving on, "Daaaddddd, so tell us the story! Tell us everything!"

Techno looked up from his plate, ready for the story. He was sure it would be an amazing one.

"Boys, boys" He said, "I don't know if my voice can do the entire story. Do you not hear it?"

It was true, their Dad's voice sounded like it had been put through the garbage disposal.

"But, I can go over a couple of things." He let Tommy get excited again, before coughing into his hand. "First, I want to be completely clear with my intentions here."

"Intentions?" Wilbur and Techno said at the same time.

"You might be wondering... What I'm doing." He looked at each child in the eyes. "Bringing a guest like him into our house. I- I want this child..." Philza stopped, and pulled the child closer to him, "To be a new part of our family."

"Woah! REALLY!" Tommy got up from his chair. Wilbur's mouth dropped open, and it took all of Techno's willpower to not react.

"Yes, really!" Philza's voice cracked as he tried to talk over Tommy's excited jabbering.

"But you must know! You must know!" Philza tried to get Tommy to stop talking, "I found him! We need to look for his family first! Before we can just take him!"

Tommy kind of heard what Philza had said, but he was still rambling on about where he would sleep, what stuffed animals he could have, where the best hiding spots for hide and seek were.

Technoblade couldn't believe it. He didn't know how to feel. This was all so sudden. And Tommy was just blabbering away... Tommy... he just wouldn't-

"SHUT UP!"

Techno stood up and slammed his fist against the table, getting the younger sibling the stop for a second. Philza and Wilbur both stared at him strangely before Philza coughed again.

"Uh- Thank you Techno." Techno's face flushed red as he quickly took his seat again, looking straight back down at his food. Philza was concerned for his son, but he would have to talk to him individually later. For now, he continued, "Secondly, we need to give him space at first. He's scared, hurt, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't know how to talk."

Wilbur spoke up, still a little frazzled from Techno's outburst. "I can teach him-"

"That would be great, Wilbur." Philza petted the top of Wilbur's head.

"But... yeah. If we just remember those two things, I think we can maybe move this little guy into Tommy's room with him." Tommy whooped loudly with glee, and Wilbur clapped his hands.

"ROOMMATES! ROOMMATES!" Tommy pumped his fist into the air.

Philza smiled at the boy's excitement, but noticed the child looking around the room scared. Quickly shushing his children, his wings subconsciously twitch a bit, like they are about to wrap them all together. "Okay, but one last thing- You remember how we picked out Wilbur and Technoblade's names?" Philza smiled, looking down at the child in his lap. "We had picked out Wilbur's beforehand, perfectly planned it out, and it had a good meaning behind it."

Technoblade didn't like where this story was going. He was still trying to process the fact that his dad had just picked up another child. From the NETHER nonetheless. How had the child survived? Was the child magical then? Was it part fae? Was it a... Nether Child?

"Then, unexpectedly, instead of one baby boy we got two. Your Mom wasn't ready for a second child, and we named Techno based off of what she felt just fit right. Her favorite legend. It's a perfect name for Techno, but it wasn't a matching name with Wilbur. So, the second time around, we had prepared a list of two girl names and two boy names, just in case we had any unexpected new additions. Turns out we didn't need the second name, we only had one child, Tommy. But the name that was supposed to go with Tommy was..." Philza smiled, and stroked the quiet child's bridge of his nose, the child closing his eyes and melting into his chest. "It was going to be Toby."


	5. Accounting

Wilbur had woken in a cold sweat. Grasping his chest, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling and leaned his head against the back of the wall. He had another nightmare. The dreams were only getting worse. When he was younger, it was always dreams of abandonment. Dreams of mom, dreams of dad, dreams of Techno and Tommy suddenly disappearing, or worse, their dead bodies at his feet. He had always had those dreams since their mom had disappeared first. Then after dad disappeared... It had gotten so bad. He was able to keep it a secret from Tommy, but Technoblade always knew. But Technoblade wasn't around. It was just him, alone in this room.

Suddenly the walls didn't seem so comforting anymore. They loomed in on him, and Wilbur struggled to get out of bed. Looking out the window, he could see that it was still very late at night. The threat of being attacked by the Dream team was still high, but there had been no official declaration of war yet. Wilbur was starting to get shaky. He needed to get to the van. Maybe get himself one of those sedative potions.

Getting up, he slipped on the bare necessities of his uniform, having no energy to put the whole fit on. He buckled his shoes and shook his fingers through his hair. He didn't know where he was going. He just needed to go out.

Wilbur left his house in L'manburg, and set foot out into the cold midnight air, the sounds of the burbling creek, and the cicadas screaming in the trees. Wilbur had claimed this land. This was his new home. His home he had created away from all the bad memories, and home that he had built from scratch himself, just as his parents had. And he had created his own family too. Granted, Tommy was his brother and Tubbo was basically his brother but they had Eret as well, a good friend who Wilbur couldn't be happier sharing their new future together with. Wilbur paused at the door to go into the van, but stopped short of clicking the unlock button. He smiled sadly to himself. What would Dad say? Using drugs to numb myself?

Instead, Wilbur decided to hoist himself up on the top of the van, hoping he isn't shaking it and waking anyone inside. Wilbur was surrounded by people he loved the most, yet he felt so alone. It was a curse he couldn't leave behind. He was always scared, always so sure that one day, Tommy wouldn't come home. One day Eret would have to walk in and show them Tubbo's dead body. It was an irrational fear, but was it? Wilbur was an orphan, well, assumed orphan, and Technoblade left to go fulfill his life's purpose or something. Wilbur sighed. We were always such poets. So dramatic. He fluffed his hair with his fingers, looking to the stars. It would be a couple more months until the harvest moon, when Technoblade said that he should have gathered enough Fae energy to contact them, just like Dad used to. But... I had always thought that we would be dramatic by each other's sides. Not continents apart.

Wilbur was lost in his thoughts when he heard splashing in the creek below. Realizing he had no weapons on him, he contemplated knocking on the roof of the truck and waking up the people inside, but he sat up first to see what it was. I swear to God if it's Sapnap...

But it wasn't. Wilbur's face lifted with surprise when he saw people swimming in the river, but not... people. They weren't exactly human. Were they...? Drowned? But these didn't look like normal zombies. And plus- they had walls around their area now. He was pretty certain there would be no way for mobs to get in. So... who were they?

Wilber gracefully slid off the roof of the van and walked cautiously to the lake. When he got closer, he could hear between splashing, quiet laughter, and hushed talking. His eyes widened when he saw a group of young men and ladies lounging on the river bed, some with fish tails and others with legs, all absolutely soaking wet with skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

A young woman in the middle of the group, talking fast with her hands, laughed and pushed her long vibrant orange hair over her shoulder, before catching a glimpse of Wilbur standing there, dumbstruck. She smiled and waved, turning to her group who quickly followed suit. Wilbur, gathering his confidence and putting aside his somber mood, walked over to the river.

"Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen." Wilbur did a sort of mock bow, "What brings you to L'manburg tonight?" He think he managed to hide his shock well, underneath his confident façade. Willbur desperately thought back to all the stories that his dad had told him when he was younger, trying to remember what these creatures could possibly be called.

The group laughed, a hushed sound like rippling water. A man from the side with a shaved head spoke up, "L'manburg did you say?! That's so interesting. This country is barely a baby, a newborn! Just last star alignment when we passed through here it was nothing but forest far as the eye can see."

"Oh why yes." Wilbur smiled, taking off his shoes. "Do you mind?" He gestured to the side of the riverbend. Star alignments?

The lady with the vibrant orange hair smiled at him, and he noticed some very pointy teeth. "Not at all."

Just then the word came to him. Mer-people.

Wilbur sat down, letting his feet dangle in the moonlit water, as the mer-people observed him. "L'manburg is a very recent establishment, but we are very proud of it." Wilbur leaned back, sand sifting through his fingers. "It's my home. Our home."

One mer-person, someone who was very pretty but hard to pin down whether they were a boy or a girl, swam closer to him. "Awwww, he's such a romantic!" The pack giggled with them. Wilbur remembered something that Philza had told him that could possibly help.

"Mer people are often friendly, flirty, and very... how do I say it? They always have their heads in the stars, or deep in the water. They love to take the long way around, but don't lie very often. They are good company, except when you get those who will try to grab you and drown you. The best way to tell the difference is just ask them, mer-people would rather give a roundabout answer then lie directly to your face."

Wilbur smiled down at the people in the pool of water. "So, honored guests... Is my wonderful night tonight with you as my company going to be my last?"

That got him a lot of chuckles and a few playful splashes getting his white top wet. He grabbed his glasses off his face and wiped them gently as the voices picked up.

"Oh he's so funny!"

"I call dibs!"

"Can't wait to fill his lungs with water!"

Wilbur didn't let his false confidence fall, not taking his feet out of the water. He was gambling right now, he could be seconds away from death. But... he felt so alive. It was... thrilling. Maybe he had a gambling problem.

The orange haired one in the middle tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing long and beautiful webbed ear lobes pierced with what seemed to be small pearls and shells. "Well," She said, her voice quieting the rest, "Not anymore I guess, tonight seems to be a blessed night under the waxing father moon! He has brought us a guest worth of our company!."

Wilbur smiled, adrenaline in his veins. This was definitely worth waking up for. "Well, if that isn't a line for a toast, I don't know what is."

He was greeted with confused murmurs. "A toast?..."

"Oh!" Wilbur stood up, scratching his hand behind his head, "A toast! Like, drinking. !" He started to back away from the river. "I'll be right back, I promise."

The mer-people looked at each other, confused, but Wilbur was back quickly with his arms full of bottles he had hidden in a chest by the van wheels. Passing them out, he said, "This is alcohol. It's what you drink toasts to."

"Alcohol?"

"Yeah," Wilbur finished passing out the last of the bottle to the group. "It's-" He thought about how to explain it. "It's like- a potion, but instead of granting effects it just makes everything seem funnier. But too much will make your head hurt like hell."

"Oh!"

"Like pufferfish elixir!"

"Land dwellers sure got funny names for things."

Wilbur smiled at the group, before unbottling his glass bottle. "To the father moon!"

The mer-folk enthusiastically lifted their drinks in the sky as well, several drops of the liquid glinting like silver rain drops as they fell into the gently flowing river.

"To father moon!"

Another voice rang out in the echoes of the dark, "To our new guest!"

The chorus of beautiful voices followed, "To the new guest!"

And finally, with no hesitation, the lady with the long vibrant orange hair gracefully dipped her cup forward, arms extended in such an ethereal way Wilbur couldn't believe that she was real. Her voice was like a harp, a trickle of a waterfall.

"To L'Manburg!"

"To L'Manburg!"

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

It was a considerable time later, and Willbur was now waist deep in the water, cheeks flushed red and wet hair plastered to his face. This is what he needed. Just a night to escape. The mer-folk definitely knew how to party, laughing and splashing, they had a good time by entertaining with short bursts of water magic and song. The only thing Wilbur found annoying was occasionally they thought it was funny to drag Wilbur underwater by the ankles. Wilbur closed his eyes for the third time as he felt hands around his feet, and prepared to go under.

The lady with orange hair had clearly set herself apart as the leader. She, halfway through the party, had pulled her beautiful tail out of the water and had changed into legs, before walking out of the water and sitting right next to Will. All the other mer-people treated her with respect and nobody objected despite Wilbur being the fun new toy that everyone wanted to mess with.

The lady with orange hair laughed and held him up by the shoulders, not letting him be taken underwater for the third time. Wilbur looked gratefully up at her, and blushed when he realized that her face was so close to his. Her eyes sparkled an unnatural green, her face delicately slender with tiny gold scales dotting around her eyes like glittery makeup.

"Uh-" Wilbur smiled crookedly. "Thank you miss- Uh, I haven't gotten your name yet actually."

The lady pulled him back onto the shore side, and the other mer-people took the hint and decided to swim just a bit farther away, just far enough it wasn't suspicious but close enough to hear what they were going to say.

The lady blushed, finishing off another bottle that Wilbur had to run back to the van for. "Uh, that's actually a complicated question for me to answer."

Wilbur smiled, his vision a bit blurry around the edges. "Well humor me. If I'm to assume your explanation to be as graceful as your face, then I will gladly sit here for the rest of the night for you to explain." Wilbur could almost hear Technoblade in the back of his head. ~Bruhhhhhh~.

She laughed vibrantly looking away to hide her glowing cheeks. "You flatter me. The problem is, well, to say simply you can't say my name in your language. I was named after an ancient sea God. Most mer-folk names you can say, but mine is actually on a frequency you can't even hear."

That got his attention. "But could you? Just say it once? Even if I can't hear?" Wilbur leaned in closer, the alcohol making him a bit bolder than he typically would be.

The lady smiled shyly and looked down, before moving her lips slowly. Wilbur, indeed, couldn't hear it. But he watched her lips, and almost caught a bit of what she could be saying.

"I thought I heard something." He smugly said.

Her eyes grew wide. "What? You did? Do you have a bit of mer-folk in you?"

"No, no." He smiled. "I'm just a musician. I'm in tune with sounds. But, if I'm not wrong, I think I heard something that would translate to a name that starts with an S?" Wilbur sat back, looking up at the sky and thinking. "Sofia? Samatha?"

The lady looked up with him, "Maybe. But they don't sound just quite right."

"Stella. Scarlette. Sarah." Wilbur shot off a couple of names, before laughing. "Sally?"

Her face lit up. "Sally!"

Wilbur looked taken aback. "Wait, Sally? Really?"

She nodded earnestly before looking straight into his eyes. "Yes."

Wilbur didn't see why this was so funny to him. He felt his face heat up, holding back little giggles. It wasn't long before he was laying with his back pressed up in the sand, laughing like there was no tomorrow. Through teary eyes, he saw Sally flop down next to him, laughing her head off as well. Her cheeks were so red, her hair sticking to her forehead. They laughed until their stomachs hurt, before simultaneously turning to look at each other's faces being tickled with the soft sand of the river bank. Their faces were close together, too close for people who had just met that night. She had tears in her eyes, and she was staring at his face, eyes glancing over all his features. "I should've known you were a musician. It must've escaped my head, but you did sing towards the beginning of this gathering, didn't you?"

"Indeed I did." Wilbur searched into her eyes.

"It- It was very good from what I can remember."

Wilbur started laughing again. "That's okay. I can hardly remember it myself."

"I-" she started, her words a bit slurred. "I'm actually pretty smart."

Wilbur laughed softly, before reaching over and touching her ear, rubbing his finger over her earrings and delicate webbing. "Yeah? I didn't think you were dumb for not remembering"

She closed her eyes, flustered. "No. It's not that. I'm trying to lead to something else... But, Yeah. I'm actually an researcher. Mer-folk are good with stuff, ya know?"

Wilbur didn't know that. "Yeah?" He said mumbled.

"But also, I'm the leader of my clan's magic as well. I've been..." She put her hand and held his wrist, stopping him from playing with her earrings anymore. In the distance Will could hear the rest of the party hooting and hollering, but they seemed so far away to him. "I've been looking for someone to do an experiment with. I think I'm on the edge of a breakthrough"

Wilbur almost didn't comprehend what she was saying. "Yeah?"

"Mer- people for ages have been separated from the rest of the world. Sure, some of us can have legs for short periods of time because we are half mer-folk, but we still suffocate if we are above land for too long. Also, our people are being trafficked. We have make-shift militias, and some good warriors, but as soon as they get their boats into the docks, we can't do anything anymore. You understand, right?"

Wilbur scrunched his forehead. "Yeah! That's terrible!"

"But you can help me fix that. All I need, would be, your permission." She brushed his cheek with her finger. "I needed a human, but I've noticed..." She let her fingers run to his mouth, before pulling his lip back, softly showing his unnaturally sharper upper teeth. "You're part fae."

Wilbur pulled his face away, not liking the fact she had pointed that out. "Yeah?" His head was pounding too much to come up with a more adequate response.

"Which would actually be better for the experiment." She sat up and looked down at him, sand in his hair and shirt sticking to his body. "All I need... and this is going to sound crazy. Is a bit of blood."

When Wilbur didn't answer, she sighed and leaned over him farther. "Listen. If it isn't you, we are just going to kill somebody else for the blood. The only reason you are alive right now is because... well... you just seemed like someone too special to just slaughter for an experiment. So I called off the attack."

Wilbur tried to make sense of her words, but it was kind of hard. He laughed softly, and said "I'm glad you didn't kill me."

"Me too."

When he didn't say anything back, Sally impatiently bit her lip. "So are going to let me...?"

Wilbur looked up at her, dreamy eyed. Her beautiful orange hair cascaded over her body and her smile was pure. She was an angel to him. With eyes almost closing, he muttered under his breath, "Anything for you."

"And you can never tell anybody about this."

"Anybody?"

"Anybody."

Wilbur, dazed and confused, looked up at the moon that was now dangerously close to setting. "What do I say then? If they ask who I was with last night?"

"Well," She pondered, "You already have a fake name I guess. Sally. You can use that."

"Yeah?" Wilbur was tipping into the edges of unconsciousness.

"As for my job... you can say I'm an accountant. Nobody asks questions when you say you're an accountant."

"Ni- nice."

The last thing Wilbur felt was a quick kiss on the cheek and a whisper in his ear.

"Thank you."


	6. 15 Minutes

Technoblade hadn't had time in a while to call back to home. After months of radio silence trapped in the dead zone called the Arctic, Techno had finally left the ice fortress that he was exploring and decided to head back home, well, less back home and more just away from the Arctic. Techno had meant to call back home, but calling home also required a certain amount of power. Techno had, just a week ago, more than enough power to call home without finding a power enhancer. Unfortunately, he had given up the power... he had yet to see if whether or not that had been a good idea. But no matter what the excuse was, it had been too long since he had seen his family. 

He felt kind of bad about it. But in his heart, Techno was a loner. He didn't mind nights by himself, on the road with nothing but his horses and sword on his back. But tonight was a night that he could make an unexpected call back home, before the previously set deadline he had for himself. He had just so happened to pass through a witch camp with an altar that if it snowed when there was a lunar eclipse and you sacrificed blood on the stone altar, you could amplify your power for the next hour or so. He was pretty lucky all those things had lined up for him the day he was just passing through to get some enchantments. 

Techno had no problem thinking of something for a blood sacrifice, and after a day of enchanting his armor at the camp he was ready to slice open the backside of his arm. He barely felt the pain, smiling as he thought of seeing his family's faces again. By God, it had been so long.

He pulled on his magic, chanting the spell silently in his head, bloody arm held out. The call vibrated the ground under his feet, and the spell reacted as an ice blue beacon erupted from the tip of the pillar, shooting straight into the morning sky.

He waited a bit, tapping his hoof slightly in anticipation. What would he say?

After standing there for two minutes, the warm blood slowly dripping a bit slower, Techno got a bit mad at himself for getting his hopes up. He frowned to himself, about to turn around when he heard a slight ice clicking noise and before him he saw an illusion, a small window like portal that let him see to the other side that was made of frosted ice.

"EEEEEYYYYYYY TECHNOBLADE!"

Technoblade grinned to himself, almost being physically taken aback from the sheer force behind this kid's voice. "Heeellooo~." He said considerably softer than Tommy.

Tommy was wearing a uniform, something that he wasn't last time he had talked to them. He also seemed to be maybe an inch taller, something that made Technoblade sweat a bit. There would be no way he would let Tommy be taller than him.

A voice off the screen was picked up. "Hello!"

Techno waved to Tubbo's voice, wondering if he was just off screen. "How are you guys doing?"

"Pretty good!" Tubbo answered.

Tommy scrunched his face in concentration, obviously thinking hard. "Yo!" Tommy leaned closer to the window. "Is that- Why the hell are you covered in blood?"

"Ah this?" He looked down at himself and was considerably surprised by how much he had gotten on him. Guess he had gotten carried away. "Blood sacrifices. Ya know? Blood for the blood gods."

He heard Tubbo off screen. "Nice."

Techno smiled, before lifting off the mask that he had taken a liking to wear. He had been told time and time again by nosy strangers to take off his mask when he is talking to people. In the past, he had ignored them, saying how he didn't want to talk with them in the first place. But he supposed he would take it off to talk to his family. His long pink hair flopped into his eyes, and he saw Tommy gasp.

"Did you get a lip piercing?!"

Techno lifted his hand and touched his lip. "Oh. I had actually forgotten about this."

Tubbo's face peaked in the frame just a tad, enough for the top of his head to be visible. "Wow! I think it looks good! And your hair has gotten longer too!"

"Thank you." Techno loved talking to his family, but he noticed a glaring absence that needed to be addressed. Ignoring Tubbo's continuation of rambling, Techno talked over him. "Where's Willbur?"

Tommy and Tubbo looked at each other like they knew something he didn't before bursting into laughter.

"Care to fill me in?" Techno patiently said over their laughter.

"YEAH!" Tommy wheezed in between his signature laugh as Tubbo tried to cover his mouth. "He- He-" Tommy couldn't finish his sentence.

"He got absolutely hammered last night. Snuck out into the Dream lands and went drinking." Tubbo finished for him.

Techno shook his head, amusement and concern in his voice. "How is he?"

Tommy pressed a hand against the window, using it to support himself up from his laughter. "Oh he's such a bitch Techno. Such a bitch." Technoblade was actually a bit concerned. It was too bad that Wilbur wasn't in shape to talk. Techno was really looking forward to seeing his twin. 

"Yeah, absolutely wasted." Tubbo continued. "It's noon and I don't think he's said anything but 'leave me alone.'"

"Yeah, and something about this lady. From what I can gather, she's an accountant."

Techno raised his eyebrows skeptically. "An accountant..."

"Yeah, but enough about us! How are you!" Tubbo jumped up a little, and Techno could see that he was also wearing a uniform.

"Oh, just traveling from place to place. Got possessed for a bit. Well, not really. Became a god of a castle. Met Dream. I also fought a lot of mobs I've never even heard about before. I took a really good nap- like a really good one. But mostly not staying anywhere for long."

Tommy abrasively cut in. "How's the potatoes?"

"I'm not-" Techno rubbed his forehead. How did he have a headache already? "Do you think I can grow potatoes in this icy tundra of pure frozen land? I sold my farm about half a year ago."

"Awww rip dude." Tubbo adjusted his high collar to his uniform.

"Na. It was time. All things must come to an end." Techno continues, leaning forward to get a better look at their outfits. "What's with the new get-up?"

"Oh! You have so much you've missed out on!" Tubbo bounced with joy. "Wilbur has declared his own nation!"

Techno was taken aback. "Come again?"

"Yeah!" Tommy slung an arm around Tubbo. "It's called... L'MANBURG!"

"L'manburg?"

"Yeah!" Tommy started talking the fast way he does when he forgets how to breathe. "Well, at first it was just a way to cover up our drug- cough- I mean potion operations but then like we really go into it and got really attached to the land and then you know the people who control the Dream lands? They actually got involved and have given us official warnings but Wilbur's ignored them. Recons we might actually go to war! How cool is that?! We've even built walls around our territory!"

Techno blinked a couple of times. "Do you need me to come home?"

"Na 'Blade- we got this one!" Tommy unsheathed his sword and stood in such a way that Techno could only see as an failed attempt to look cool. The weapon that he had wasn't even enchanted. 

They didn't stand a chance. Technoblade should know. He had just met Dream.

"Are you sure?"

Tubbo smiled, pulling out a bow. "Yeah, were sure. We've gotten better at fighting since we've last trained together."

Techno digressed, but was still worried. "All the more reason for me to come home and see your new skills myself."

"Yo! Do you- do you not believe in us?" Tommy laughed, playfully accusing Techno.

"Yeah! This man, thinking as soon as he get's to the number one spot, all the sudden thinks he can judge everyone else's skills." Tubbo poked at the screen.

"To be fair, I'm tied for first," Techno crossed his arms, surprised to find that his arm was wet. He had forgotten about the cut. "-and it doesn't take a genius to see where two kids would stand against the Dream Team."

Tommy laughed, causing Techno to flinch a bit. "EYYYYYY BIG MAN!" Tommy screamed at him. "Don't you have better things to do? We have very very important things to get to."

"Wait-" Techno tried to talk but was cut off by Tommy wishing him goodbye. I wanted more time. I wanted to talk to Wilbur- is he okay-

"Yeah!" Tubbo chimed in, "Very very important!"

No wait-

"See you later 'Blade! I'll tell Wilbur you said hi!" Tommy waved, seconds away from smashing the connection apart with his sword.

"Bye Technoblade!" Tubbo said sweetly. "We miss you!"

And with that Tommy swung his sword and shattered the connection between the two of them, leaving broken shards of ice at his feet.

Techno stood there, thinking after all the months of silence...

All the months of adventure...

Becoming tied for first... 

Tommy literally only wanted to talk to him for like... 15 minutes.

Techno shrugged. 

Well... at least I have another hour of powered-up magic then.


	7. The Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LMAOOOOOO I forgot I started to post this on ao3. Honestly. I'm just going to catch this up with Wattpad. But like, also, if you have wattpad go read it on that lol. Love y'all, take care of yourself and have a good day!

Technoblade sat at the beacon.

Today was the full moon, the day that Dad's power was the strongest, the day that dad could call home. Techno had woken up at 6am, made food for the entire day, and had went out and camped on the beacon. He would not miss dad's call.

Because if he missed this call, then Techno couldn't hold onto hope anymore.

Philza had gone on another expedition, leaving the boys at home. Techno was hoping that he would have taken him like he had last time, but this time Philza said he needed to stay home. He was devastated, but was also smart enough to know that bringing a 16 yr old isn't the safest for all situations. So instead, he was content to stay home and practice his sparring.

Wilbur wasn't that interested in sparring, but Tommy was. Except, whenever he fought Techno, it wasn't much of a fight. Sure, every once in a while Tommy would get in a good hit, but it was clear who was superior. Which was okay. There was a 7 year age gap between the two.

But there was only so many times you can spar and win easily before you grow bored.

Techno didn't feel like practicing right now. He needed the practice, his balance being shot after he had developed what Philza affectionately called his satyr legs. He thought they were a bit cool, but was kind of sad when Wilbur didn't follow suit. Lately, Techno had been trying to establish his identity to be different from Wilbur's, such as piercing his now droopy fae like ears and changing his hair to the color pink, but when this big of a change happened, he felt like his wish was granted a little too well. He felt almost like a freak. Nobody else in the village had ever seen a transformation like his, and it being a sort of small village it wasn't long until he felt like everyone was watching him. Also, his vision had improved drastically. He didn't need to wear his glasses anymore. However, Wilbur had picked up wearing glasses. Techno had wanted his own identity, but he thinks maybe this was going too far too fast. He didn't want to lose Wilbur.

It also sucked not being able to walk normally anymore. Dad had said that he had to get used to walking again once his wings had developed. Said it messed up his balance, much like how Technoblade's satyr legs was messing up his. But Technoblade was especially salty about the timing of this new development; he was just getting really good at sparring. This setback came and knocked him off his podium right when he had started getting confident. Now, it took all his focus just to walk across the room. But Dad said that as soon as his body adjusted, he would be back to where he was, if not better, in no time.

Techno blade sighed, looking off into the distance. Dad was only supposed to be gone for two weeks. At this point, it had been two months. Abigail was taking care of them, but it was more like she just checked up on them every once in a while. Tommy and Tubbo were both feral kids, gone outside by the time the sun went up and not home until it set again. And Techno and Wilbur were both old enough to take care of themselves. Plus, Techno was a pretty good cook, so Abigail didn't even have to worry about meals. But she still stopped in anyways, always a tight, forced smile on her face. As if to say, you poor boys.

Techno was getting a bit anxious. The first time Dad had forgotten to call during the full moon was at the very beginning of his trip, and that was understandable. But after all the time that had passed, and no call home, if he didn't call this full moon Techno could see himself assuming the worst. Techno wasn't a glass half full type of kid. He could already feel the dark thoughts clouding around him. He's dead. Something got him. He's never coming back-

He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard Wilbur sneaking up behind him. Turning his head to see Wilbur, he saw him peeking out from behind one of the forest trees that surrounded the village. He was wearing a yellow jumper and a red beanie, holding the guitar he had gotten as a present from the village.

"Can't sneak up on you anymore, can I?" Wilbur laughed awkwardly, re-adjusting his beanie before sitting down next to him on the beacon . "With your new ears and all."

Techno subconsciously brought his hands up to his ears, trying not to think too much about the comment. But he could still hear the thoughts in the back of his head. Pig freak.

"Hey sleepy head!" Wilbur gave him a bonk on the back of the head, getting a "hey!" from Techno.

"What was that for?" Techno rubbed his head grumbling.

"You need to wake up." Wilbur strummed a cord on his guitar. "You are too deep in your head." Wilbur smiled, before starting to sing~

What goes on in Big Blade's head

The man who makes sure we are always fed?

What happens in sleep boys thoughts

All he can think of, is crispy golden tater-tots!

Techno smiled, pushing Wilbur away playfully. "Shut up."

"Eyyyyy, it was pretty good wasn't it? I'm a natural?" Wilbur looked pleadingly at Techno. When Techno didn't respond, Wilbur could instantly see all the building tension that he had been holding. Techno felt so guilty, and for what? It made Wilbur so sad, not being able to help share the load when Techno had such a strong sense of responsibility.

"Ey, Techno." Wilbur scooted closer, putting his guitar in his lap. "Want to try?"

His eyes got wide, snapping him back to reality. "What?"

"Try a cord. Or two!" Wilbur smiled at him, showing his pointy upper teeth. "It helps me... when... you know. When I feel like how you're feeling."

Techno gingerly touches the guitar in his lap, as if it was made of fragile glass. "Really?"

Wilbur nodded. "Really!"

Techno strummed a tentative chord, it sounding absolutely disgusting before Techno thrusted the guitar back in Wilburs hands. "No no no I can't do it."

"Yes you can," Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Just let me show you a chord or two. If you don't get it, at least you'll be distracted for a bit."

Techno seems to think about this for a couple seconds, before slowly nodding.

"Yes?" Wilbur asks excitedly.

Technoblade knew it would make Wilbur happy. "Yes."

So the two boys sat at the beacon, the sun slowly passing over midday, waiting for their father to come back home. The sounds of badly played chords were accompanied by bird chirping and the boys laughter. Techno almost forgot about all the dread that had been building up.

Soon, Techno's fingers were shot, but he was able to play one singular chord correctly.

"Good job!" Wilbur clapped his hands.

"Don't patronize me." Techno grumbled, secretly pleased with himself. Their laughter slowly died away, and Techno looked to the cloudy sky, the breeze catching his hair lightly.

Wilbur got an idea. "Hey, Techno."

"Hmm?"

"Close your eyes!"

"Uhhh, no?"

"Uhh, yes!"

Techno sighs and only hesitates a second longer, closing his eyes and trusting his twin. He felt a gentle tug on his hair.

"What are you doing?"

"Braiding it!" Wilbur sung back at him. "It's gotten so long, I thought that I'd be able to do a little braid at the end."

Techno didn't know what to think about that, so instead he stayed quiet and let Wilbur's gentle fingers pull at his hair, each touch feeling like a worry being lifted off his shoulders.

It was melodically, much like everything Wilbur does. He talks smoothly. He sings smoothly. His presence was soothing to Techno. It just made sense that Wilbur would be good at this. He caught himself smiling as he leaned further back into his twin, letting himself fully relax.

Techno must've fallen asleep, because he woke up to a soft push and Wilbur's voice.

"All done!"

Technoblade groggily opened his eyes, the sunlight now setting behind the trees. "Jesus Christ how long were you braiding my hair for?" His voice was a bit raspy.

"Well, I did it, and didn't like it, and undid it, then redid it, then undid it, then, I left and picked some flowers! Then I did it a third time and now it's all done." Wilbur picked up Technoblade's steel sword and held it up so the reflection could show the white flowers in his hair.

"Wow." Techno said, touching his braid with his own hands. "This is really good."

"Thank you!" Wilbur beamed.

"Makes me look so manly." Techno joked.

Wilbur set down the sword, giving him a hug. Wilbur knew, if dad didn't call back tonight from the beacon, this could be the last normal night of theirs in a long while. So Wilbur hugged him like it would be their last, trying not to tear up as he felt to cool overcasting shadows from the trees. "Yes it does."

"Thank you, Wilbur." Technoblade pulled him back to look him in the eyes. At least, that's what he was taught to do when he really wanted to say thank you. That's the advice that Philza had given him.

"It's no problem." Wilber pulled away and stretched. "Well, my back hurts and I'm sure Tommy and Tubbo are starving by now." Wilbur held out a hand to help Techno stand up. "Want to go eat dinner?"

Techno didn't respond, instead grabbing Will's hand and grunting as he was hoisted up.

"I swear to God if they started eating my dinner I made before I even get there I'm going to-" Technoblade's voice was cut short as he stumbled, unable to stand up correctly. Wilbur rushed to him, letting him lean on a shoulder. Techno dimly in the back of his mind noted how he was now just a tad bit taller than Will.

"Woah there!" Wilbur laughed and helped him regain his balance. "You can't do anything if you can't even get to the house."

Technoblade scrunched his nose. "I'd find a way."

Wilbur laughed, now helping him take a few steps forward. "How so?"

"I'd crawl. Maybe I'd grow wings like Dad." Techno looked forward, not meeting Wilbur's face out of embarrassment of needing to be helped. "Or maybe I'd simply just manifest their death so vividly that the Gods would take pity and make it come true."

Wilbur took another step. "Blood for the blood gods?" He quoted one of his twins favorite go-to phrases.

They walked together, suns at their backs, stumbling back home, leaving their stuff at the beacon. In both of their hearts, both of them felt it. Tonight might be the last normal night they had together. Tonight might be the night that they lose both parents and officially become orphans, a word that Abigail had said to Philza repeatedly in hushed tones. A warning. Don't keep losing yourself, Philza. Or these children... I don't want them to be orphans.

"Yeah." Technoblade sighed. "Blood for the blood gods."


	8. Escape

Pain ran through his body as Philza came to consciousness. 

His body was wracked head to toe in aches, his head throbbed like no other, and he was sure that on the cold floor right next to him was his own blood.

What the hell happened?

Philza tried to remember. He screwed his eyes shut, ignoring all the echoing sounds he heard that amplified tenfold in his head.

There was a village.

Yes. Yes. A desert village.

They had asked me to clear out some mobs in a cave that had been terrorizing the village.

Philza thought long and hard. After killing so many monsters, each expedition kind of blurs into each other.

But there was a buttload of mobs.

And when I jumped into the pit...

Philza remembered fighting hard, sword swinging wildly in only a way that an experienced expert could accomplish. He was a survivalist, and he had to put his good talents to use for the greater good, even if it was just slowing him down on his end-game goal.

I had fought good, only getting a couple scratches.

But then...

The pit floor had given way, dropping Philza, not giving his wings enough time to catch any lift to stop his ankles from slamming and snapping on the obsidian floor that was placed underneath the pit.

Then the kicker.

The sound of TNT lighting.

Philza groaned, opening his eyes and trying to take in his surroundings.

It was a miracle he was alive.

Thank Gods he was alive.

His eyesight was blurry, everything he saw overlapped and mixed together. But he could make out that he was in a dark, damp place.

Great.

Somebody tried to kill him.

His mind was so foggy, but he had acquired a large pain tolerance over the years so he could think clearly in times like these. The fact that his body hurt this bad, meant some things were seriously messed up. And he needed to know how bad.

How much could he move?

Philza first tested out his fingertips, choosing to go small then work big. His left hand was numb, and it was stiff, but he didn't think any of his fingers were broken. Next was his hands. He moved them just a little, before he realized why he was lying in such an awkward position.

It wasn't because any of his bones were broken that way.

It was because it was the way he was tied up.

He had handcuffs on his wrists behind his back, and rope on his legs, but what was really making it so uncomfortable was the excessive wrapping of all sorts of ropes around his wings. It was a bit of overkill. But then again, how many times do you have to tie up a person with wings? Want to make sure you get it right.

Philza took some deep breaths, happy to not hear any rattling in his chest. After surviving many predicaments, he had gotten better at assessing his own injuries. This is the list he had so far.

Bruising, everywhere.

Slight cuts from the fight.

Slight burn marks on legs and arms.

Definitely broken ankles.

Charred wings from taking the blunt of the TNT blasts.

God was he screwed.

Time passed slowly. Philza was painfully aware of every second, his mind constantly running. He was a smart man. He was planning. But it's kind of hard to execute any plan that included movement when he was very much so out of commission. The only way he would be getting out of this was with his words and manipulation. And he would need another person to be able to do that. So, for now Philza decided to just calm down and save his strength.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Time didn't feel real. Philza was still lying on the floor, his burns and cuts almost definitely being infected by whatever bacteria was on the grimy stone. During that time, Philza had done nothing but think. Think about strategies, but also thinking about getting home.

God, did he so desperately want to be back home with his kids.

Finally, he heard something other than distant echoes. He heard footsteps. Sure, firm footsteps that were almost a hundred percent coming for him. Philza held his breath as he heard rattling of keys.

The light that flooded in the room blinded Philza, and he squinted his eyes, unable to see anything.

"Common buddy. Time to go." The voice was deep and gravely, but definitely feminine.

A good omen. Call Philza biased, but he was glad it was a woman rather than a man.

Philza called out blindly back at her, his voice also gravely from being unused and from dehydration. He needed to get information, and gauge how responsive the person was going to be. "How long have I been down here?"

He couldn't see the lady, his eyes still blinking back from the light blinding him, but he heard her stand near him. "Ehhh. I don't know. Don't keep track." Philza hissed in pain as he felt his body being lifted from the ground. This person... this lady... was really strong. "Well... maybe three days?"

This is good. And bad. Good that the lady was so responsive. Good that it was a lady. His chances of talking his way out just went up. But, from the huge hand grip on his back and the force of how his body was pulled up, this lady was absolutely ripped.

Philza clenched his teeth as the lady tried to force him to stand on his feet. His eyes were starting to adjust, just in time for him to see the floor come rushing back at him as he had no strength to hold himself up.

"Ow."

"Sorry. My bad." The lady grabbed him by his wings again, this time slinging him over her shoulder like he weighed nothing. Philza had the breath knocked out of him and his body screamed from all the excessive movement. The lady started walking, out of the cell where Philza was being held, and left down a stone hallway whose walls were coated in dripping slime and moss.

"So... Three days huh?" Philza managed to say.

"Yup."

"Cool." Philza couldn't manage much more conversation. So instead, he tried focusing more on looking for a way out. But what was distracting was this lady's huge muscles moving underneath him, and her coils of brown hair swinging into his face. His vision was still a bit blurry, but as he looked he was able to see no clear sign of an exit. All the doors look the same. All the hallways looked the same. And not to mention the hallways and the directions made no sense. It was like if the entire building was a maze.

"Where are we?"

The lady grunted, shifting his weight before responding. "A stronghold."

Philza had never heard that word in all of his adventuring, and it surprised him. "A stronghold?"

"Yup." She offered no other explanation.

"Cool." Philza mumbled.

It was probably only a couple seconds, but time seemed to stretch out forever as Philza analyzed every second. He knew as soon as he reached their destination, he probably would lose any contact with this person. This person was clearly hired hands and not the actual person who had a grudge against him who tried to end his life. So if he was ever going to get out, he needed to do it now.

"So huh... how was your day?" Philza asked.

The lady stopped and stood still for a second, causing Philza to wince at the jolt. "You know what? Actually pretty crappy!"

"Yeah?" Philza pretended to be interested, like he wasn't having a pretty crappy time himself. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The lady stood still for a second, her breathing louder than the dripping water somewhere in the mess of a maze they were in. "You know what. I actually do."

Philza could almost cry tears of relief. He was so lucky. 

Thank the Gods.

Philza's word shifted as the lady took him off his shoulder and sat him with his back against the wall. His head hurt so bad, it took a few seconds for the world to stop spinning before he could get a clear look at the lady, who was now sitting opposite of him on the wet floor.

The lady was built.

She was huge, even sitting on the floor she towered over Philza. She wasn't built like how people might view muscles, like a six pack and perfectly contoured arms, but she was built like if you got one smack from her your head would just explode on impact. In the dark, it was hard to see exact details, but she wore iron armor and simple clothes underneath. Her skin looked to be a dark tan, and she had a rounder face that was framed well by her messy coils of bouncy hair. She had a huge claymore strapped to her waist, that was now laying on the floor next to them. She looked like an ancient warrior.

"Oh. That must be so uncomfortable." Her voice rang out, seeing how Philza had to sit with his hands behind his back. "Want me to get that for you?"

Thank the Gods thank the Gods thank the Gods. "Yes that would be very nice, thank you."

The lady fumbled with her big hands unlatching the tiny keys from the ring on her belt, but soon Philza felt the immediate release of the awkward position of his shoulders, and almost sighed with ecstasy. At least his arms were no longer burning now. "There ya' go." The lady's voice practically vibrated in Philza's bones.

Philza gingerly rubbed his wrists, deciding if it was worth pressing his luck. "If it wouldn't be much trouble, could you get my legs as well?"

The lady rubbed the back of her neck, every movement looking very capable of changing into an attack. "Na' I can't do that. I'm already gonna' get in trouble for this."

Philza tried to manipulate her. "You're already this far in." He paused. "Plus, if you didn't notice the intense swelling, my ankles are very very broken. I can't run on them anyways. The most I could probably do without my wings would be to hobble a couple feet before you caught up to me. And I have no doubt that you could do that."

The lady stopped and looked up for a minute, really thinking about what he said. "I guess. Well, sounds good to me!" The lady took out a small knife out of the folds of her armor and slashed open the ropes, relieving the tension. Immediately Philza leaned over and started to touch his own legs, trying to get a true extent over how bad this really was. And boy, his ankles were really swollen. If he really destroyed his body, he would probably get down a single hallway before this absolute unit caught up with him. The only way he would be getting out of this was if he was talking his way out.

"Thank you so much. You have my eternal gratitude." Philza leaned back against the wall once more. "Now, what do you want to talk about?"

The lady placed her hands on her hips, clearly gearing up for a long story. Good.

"I just-" She looked off to the side, "There is this man who is really getting on my nerves."

"How so?"

"I feel like I'm not being appreciated enough!" She threw her hands down on her lap, making Philza flinch. "I literally do so much for this team, I'm the brawns and all the firepower, and yet that skinny twat of a boy thinks he can just declared himself the 'leader', just because he's a 'superior and smarter man.'" She did air quotes around the last words she said.

Philza cheered internally. He was getting out of here.

Internal conflict.

He would be able to see his kids again.

"How dare he!" Philza hyped her up. "I've only just met you and I can already tell your a force to be reckoned with!"

"That's what I've been saying!" She threw her hand up. "And listen get a load of this." She leaned forward, talking in a more hushed tone. "We started out as three partners. Me, the bag of crap who calls himself Bates, and Cam. We split all wages 3 ways. But now, he wants to split it into fourths and take 2/4 of the profit!"

"What?!" Philza gasped dramatically. "How dare he?"

"Uhg! I know! I'm constantly thissss close to leaving. They would be absolutely wrecked if I left. I do all the fighting for them. I'm the expert. Who else would they get to train the rookies." 

"You're too good for them!" Philza was happy with how this was going, but the loud noises were starting to cause a sharp headache. He would just have to do his best to ignore it. 

"I am!"

She looked off into the distance, a hard, serious expression on her face. "Ya know? You're not as bad as they told me you'd be." 

Philza's breath caught, wondering where this was going. "They said that you were some legendary hard-core adventure who was causing lots of problems for folks like us. And that you needed to be taken out. That I was the only person who'd be able to fight you one on one if you got out. But I like you."

Philza tried his best to smile. "Thank you for thinking so highly of me."

"You wanna know what they were planning on doing with ya?" She continued before he had a chance to reply. "They were going to auction you off to the highest bidder. Apparently you have a lot of enemies that would pay a high price to kill you personally."

Great. Philza knew he was treading on thin ice. Philza thought of all the things he could ask. 

Who is looking for me?

Who wants me dead?

Why now of all times?

But that wouldn't lead to more internal conflict. So he decided to try something else.

"And is that why your 'leader' wanted 2/4 instead of ⅓ all of the sudden? Because he knew he was going to get a lot of money from my auction?"

The lady gasped, the realization coming to her. "Oh my lord! You're so right! How- how dare he!" She slammed her fist down, causing a few crumbs to fall from the ceiling. Jesus Christ, thought Philza. She must have some Golem blood in her. 

"They don't deserve you!" Philza raised his voice.

"Yeah!"

"You are too good for them!"

"YEAH!" The shouting rung in his head and he bit down hard in pain. 

"You should show them a lesson!"

"YES!!" She stood up, shaking the ground. "Wait...? But how?"

"Well, they wanted money... right?" Philza said carefully. "And I'm the product that they are going to be selling... right?" Philza smiled at her, trying to coax her along his train of thought. "So you should..-"

"Take you for myself! And leave them in the dust!"

Philza's heart started racing. He was going to say to let him go, but this was not what he wanted. "Uhhhh right idea but not exactly."

"No! It's a perfect plan! Then I get all the money to myself!" The lady landed a heavy hand on his shoulder, making him cry out in pain. "Thank you so much!"

"Ah." Philza tried to push her hand off. "See- but, then, I don't get to go back home to my family."

"Wait."

Philza clenched his hands, waiting for something bad to happen.

"Hold up. They never said you had a family!" She clapped her hands in surprise. "I love children! Tell me all about them!"

Thank gods thank Gods thank the holy almighty godsssss

"Yeah. They're waiting back home for me." Philza decided to play the sob story. "I have two older twins, Wilbur and Techno, and two 9 year olds, Tommy and Tubbo. They are absolutely amazing, I love them with all my heart. But, I haven't been home recently. I've been adventuring on and off for the past couple years, looking for their mother who was captured in a pillager attack. I just- I normally don't try to do anything too dangerous, I don't want them to lose both their parents... ya know?"

Philza preformed his best acting and waited for a reply.

"Oh my LORD!" The lady grabbed him by both shoulders, and yanked him so Philza was looking into her eyes. "That's- that's so sweet!" She sniffed, wiping one hand across her nose.

"Thank you."

"I- I'll be sure to get you back home! And get revenge on this man along the way!" She stood back up, and towered over him. "Stay right there! I'll be right back!"

Philza sat there a bit dumbfounded, watching the lady stomp off down the maze.

I can't believe that just worked. 

He was- He was so lucky. 

He thought on whether or not he should try to start moving, but decided against it. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, trying to not cause himself pain. He had no idea how this was going to go. But he thanked the gods, over and over again in his head.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Wehylin was having an amazing day. She felt like somebody finally understood her. Like she was seen for something of value other than just a brute. She rushed away from the prisoner she had left on the floor, running to the potions room.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins. This was the most independent she had been since joining this group. She was actually making decisions for herself. And she was loving it.

Wehylin knew the stronghold like the back of her hands. They had been using it for a base for a while now. Some of the hallways were well lit, like the hallways that Bates regularly walked down, like the prisoner hallways. For some reason, Bates refused to learn how to navigating in the dark, but he had all other halls that he didn't use completely dark, so that intruders would have a hard time navigating. But Wehyling and Cam both knew exactly how the pitch black maze went. Both of their rooms were in the dark. As well as the potions, the armory, and the training room. So it wasn't long walking down the black echoing halls and dangerous rooms of questionable things before she could feel the entrance to the potion room by the changes of grooves in the walls. Even in the dark, she knew exactly when to duck whenever she passed under a doorway that was way too small for her to not hit her head, something she had to memorize the hard way. She ran her hands over the lever to open the door and snuck inside.

This was the part she didn't know well, she didn't really take care of inventory like Cam, it just wasn't her job. Her job was recruiting and training ruffians for joining the base. She was really good at getting people to listen to her. The only person who wasn't scared of her and didn't treat her with respect was Bates. 

The first thing she did was light some candles they had put in the most important rooms and open the closest chest.

Common common common. 

Wehylin knew that her time was limited. The reason Bates wanted the prisoner was to wheel and deal with a potential buyer, and to show that we had actually captured the famous adventurer. Funny how people didn't believe that they had captured him, even with how much work Bates had put into it. He had planned for weeks, making a conspiracy boards trying to track the weird and sporadic sightings of the famous Philza. Something to do with moon cycles? Wehylin didn't know, she didn't pay that much attention. There had just been a new rookie that she was putting all her effort into training. Poor lad, didn't even know how to knock an arrow. 

Wehylin smiled as she gripped the bottle she was looking for in her hand, before she stuffed a couple in the pack at her waist. He would definitely need these.

Blowing out the candles, Wehylin snuck carefully, well as carefully as a giant like her could possibly sneak. She walked back through the cold hallways, taking a left and a couple rights until she was outside of Cam's room. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

"What do you want?" Cam's quiet voice talked through the door.

"Eye! Bates said he wanted Philza's equipment!" Wehylin bellowed at them.

"Yeah yeah, ya crazy lunatic."" Cam gumbled. The door slowly opened to the thin and lanky non-binary kid who was in charge of inventory. They held out the prisoners bag. "Why did you have to come sooo soon. I was hopen' to get longer to look at these enchantments. His armor, his weapon's-" They shoved the bag into her hands before turning back around to grab more stuff, long hair shifting over their face like a face shield. Wehylin always thought that they had a wonderful face and should tie their hair back more, but it made them feel better so she kept quiet about it. "It's crazy how good all his items are. Not to mention I didn't even get to look in his books. I wish I would have been able to write a couple more notes..."

"Aww, shucks!" Wehylin snapped her fingers, trying to get them moving along. "That's too bad! Sure does suck. Well, I'm on a time crunch so see ya later!" Wehylin snatched the rest of what Cam was holding, grabbing it from their arms. "Thank you!"

She heard Cam grumbling behind her, saying something like "such a shame," and "so annoying." But she didn't look back. She felt a little guilty of what she was doing, but Cam would move on. Cam wasn't attached to Wehylin like she was attached to them. They were strong, even if they did bend a bit to Bates, but who didn't? Plus, Bates needed them for their proximity powers. Proximity was a small psychic power that allowed an instant communication link in the nearest vicinity of minds. Cam wasn't that good at it, but they had managed to be of enough use to Bates to make him split money 3 ways. 

Whatever happened, Wehylin wished them the best of luck in her head. But, Wehylin had realised that she was fed up with her life here, even if it had started with good intentions. It was time to end things.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Philza was this close to falling asleep when he was yanked back to consciousness by the slight vibrations of the stone floors. He had almost thought for a second that the lady had just left him there. But he was just paranoid for nothing. He saw her turn the corner of the hallway, ducking a tad under the ceiling so as to not hit her head. With excitement, Philza noticed that she was carrying not only supplies, but his supplies.

"I'm back!" She said, throwing his stuff down beside him, the armor and sword clanking painfully loud on the wet stone floor.

Philza looked at her in surprise. "Uh- thank you so much."

"That's not even the best part!" She pulled something out of her own pocket, two small glass bottles of slightly glowing liquid.

Philza felt his adrenaline spiking. 

He had a chance.

"What potions are those?"

"Healing and strength!" She uncorked a bottle and bent down to put it in his hands, "Thought you maybe would like to walk out of here on your own two feet!"

Philza accepted the bottles graciously and didn't hesitate to down the first bottle. Immediately he felt the throbbing in his body slow down just a bit, as the bottle took effect. Feeling better, Philza sat up straighter to grab the second bottle and down that one as well.

"How'd ya feel?"

Philza leaned against the wall, using it to help him stand up. "Like I'm not dying anymore." He tried to lean over to grab his stuff off the floor, but quickly realized that any fast movement sent his vision swimming. "Uh-"

"It's okay, I'll carry your stuff for you!" The lady warrior said, scooping it all up in one arm like it was nothing. "Also, let me get your wings for you!"

Philza could've cheered in excitement if he wasn't so tired. "Thank you." He said, turning and letting her release his wings. He felt the bondages fall to the ground, and immediately stretched them out, the skin cracking and blisters splitting as he moved the burned skin. It hurt like hell, but it felt so good to stretch his muscles out.

"Okay. Let's move."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Wehylin was a bit worried for the dude. He was not in good shape.

But to his credit, he never said anything as she led him through the dark, only making noise if they stopped too fast or she sped up beyond what he could follow.

Wehylin did her best to be quiet, but it was never her strong suit. So instead, she focused more on being efficient. Fastest way to the exit. It was unfortunate the prisoner quarters were at the deepest parts of the stronghold. It would be a maybe a solid five minutes before they found an exit, maybe more with how slowly they were moving.

Philza yanked at Wehylin's bag, causing her to stop.

"What?!" She whisper-screamed.

"I hear voices." Philza whispered back at her.

Wehylin gently tugged Philza back against the wall, trying to remember where the nearest hiding spot was. She thought there was one a couple meters ahead, and when she dragged both of them over there, she was happy to find her memory had not failed her. So they both tucked themselves into the little corner, holding their breaths and straining their ears.

Wehylin could hear Cam's voice. "-Thought something was strange."

"Yeah?! So you're telling me, I've been entertaining this guest for who knows how long for this dumb bitch to just go and grab a prisoner, and instead of grabbing him, she comes to you for his equipment!"

Wehylin grinded her teeth. The abrasive voice could be none other than Bates.

"Uh- well. Not really. I was just going to ask what you were doing with the stuff. I really wanted to finish some notes-"

"Shut the hell up. Take me to Wehylin right now."

Cam stuttered, "I- I don't know where she is. If she isn't getting the prisoner, maybe she left?"

"Left?!" Wehylin could hear them walking dangerously close. But Bates never walked in the dark, so it had to be a couple halls down. "That stupid ogre couldn't do anything if you didn't hold her hand. Listen, Philza the slippery mother-" Bates let out a line of cursing that Wehylin hadn't heard before. "He probably just got into that stupid head of hers and got her to like, I don't know, toss the keys in the cell. At this point, we are probably looking for her dead body. Alert all the guards. Block all the exits. As of now, we are to assume that Philza is on the loose."

"Yes sir!" Cam's voice squeaked. Wehylin squinted her eyes. How had she let things go so far?

How could she let things go so far? Wehylin and Cam where both street kids picked up by Bates. From the beginning, had Bates promised to build an empire together. A place where society had deemed freaks like Wehylin and Cam could live in peace. The crime didn't bother any of them, after living on the streets so long their morals were a bit screwed, by Wehylin would like to think that she and Cam were still good people at heart. So the idea of having a paradise where they were in control was really appealing. Taking a step back, it was so clear to her that even from the beginning Bates didn't really care about them. He was just using them. Wehylin for her insane combat skills and Cam for their uncanny amount of knowledge. 

Wehylin had been coming to this conclusion herself, but it wasn't until today that she felt like she had the confidence to actually act on her realization. 

"Now, if you excuse me, I have a guest to entertain." Wehylin could practically hear his scowl as he walked off mumbling. "Stupid good for nothing son of a-"

Philza pulled at Wehylin's arm, as if to get her to keep moving. Wehylin nodded in the dark, even though he couldn't see, and started to slowly work their way forward again. This was bad. She didn't know what to do. If he was blocking all the exits-

But Wehylin was a warrior. She could take out a couple of lackeys.

Then again, if she had to constantly worry over Philza...

"Wehylin?"

The voice broke the silence. Philza tensed up behind her, and Wehylin felt her heart pumping.

"Yes Cam?" She gritted her teeth, hoping she wasn't doing something horribly wrong.

"I knew you weren't dead." Wehylin heard Cam's footsteps coming closer. "I- I know we haven't gotten along that good lately, but... are you okay?"

"Yes I am." Wehylin stepped in front of Philza, hoping that they didn't hear him.

"Then why are you hiding from Bates?"

Shoot. "Listen-"

"Listen, we are getting out of here." Wehylin was caught off guard by Philza's voice coming from behind her. What was he doing?!

Cam gasped. "You really-"

"And you can't stop us. But what can happen." Philza took a breath, having trouble breathing. "Is for you to help us get you out and away from this man. All we need to do is for you not to send the message to seal the exits."

Cam's breathing rapidly increased in the dark. "I-"

Wehylin reached out and gently found Cam's arm. "It's okay."

"I- I already sent the message. Through proximity."

Shoot . There was nothing they could do now. Wehylin grinded her teeth.

"I-" Cam stuttered. "Wehylin. We can still save this."

"What do you mean?"

Cam stopped a silence that Wehylin could only assume was filled with thinking.

"You're in trouble because of Philza right? Well, we just have to get him out of here without them seeing us with you and then we can leave later once things have calmed down." Cam managed to say. Wehylin forgot for how social inadequate this kid was, but when they went into intense focus mode they were quick to get their instructions across. "Or we can just turn Philza back in and pretend like we caught him, but I assume that's not what you want?"

"Let's not do that." Philza spoke up.

"Yeah." Wehylin agreed.

"Well then. Let's-" Cam reached out and touched Wehylin's arm. "I'm sick and tired of him too. That was the last straw for me..."

"Let's get out of here."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Philza knew his life was on a timer. He didn't know how long those potions were going to last, but if they ran out in the middle of battle, he was as good as dead. And the whole standing in the dark heart to heart that "Wehylin" and "Cam" just had was not helping his whole time crunch thing.

At least they were moving again.

Cam had decided that the best exit would be through a water tunnel, kind of like a sewer that was connected to the stronghold. So that's where they were headed now. It was slow going, every once in a while they would hear people moving in the distance and sounds of armor clinking together as the 'Bate's' men searched for them.

Philza hoped his luck hadn't ran out.

He traveled blindly in the dark, fully trusting these two criminals he had met today. But they both seemed good hearted. And it's not like he really had a choice.

After a while Philza could hear echoes of running water.

"We are almost there." Cam's voice was somewhere in front of him.

But Philza felt something wrong. A gut feeling. A feeling that you develop after years of life and death situations. Philza's boots had just touched the pooling water in the room when he yelled, "Turn back!"

Wehylin and Cam both grunted in surprise but any actions they would have done were cut short by a blinding light. They all bent over and covered their eyes in pain. A flash grenade.

He heard the bastards voice before he saw him. "Ah. How cute, Cam. I thought you were better than this."

Philza blinked his eyes open, forcing himself to stay conscious despite his throbbing head. They were in the middle of what did seem to be a very large water passage, one that he was happy enough to see that he could possibly fly if needed. But they were surrounded. Men and women with armor and crossbows lined in a circle around them, and right in the middle was Bates holding a now lit lantern in one hand and what he could only assume was another flash grenade. 

And boy, did he look as ugly as he sounded.

Behind Bates was a large net, one he assumed he had placed there to catch Philza if he had tried to fly down this way. 

Well there goes his quick escape. 

"Wh- What?" Cam whispered.

"I knew you knew about this way." Bates smiled, swinging the lantern wildly while he talked. "I also knew if Wehylin was to ever betray our pact, you would be soon to follow. So, I personally thought that I would come guard your favorite exit." He smiled maliciously as his voice dripped with venom.

Wehylin stepped in front of Cam and Philza, her huge form towering over everyone there. With a shinkkk she drew the intimidating sword that made some of the men take a step back.

Bates laughed. "After all this time, all of our crimes we've committed together, and you're just going to give it up? What happened to money? What happened to wanting to feel like you belong somewhere? Like you weren't the freak like you've always been made out to be?"

Wehylin huffed and hoisted her sword in a defense position, dropping Philza's stuff right behind her.

"What happened to our paradise?"

Philza saw both of them tense up.

Bates raised a hand, pointing at them. "There are a lot of freaks in this world. Just look at Philza for an example. But even compared to him, your disgusting."

"Stop." Wehylin grunted under her breath.

"You never fit in before. You're own parents threw both of you out. What makes you think you'd be able to live out in society, especially after all you've done?"

Philza hated where this was going.

"The golem monster and the kid with no gender."

Philza was waiting for an explosion of emotions. A climax. The payoff of all his harsh words. That's why it threw him for a loop when the only voice was Wehylin's soft spoken word. 

"Run."

Cam was scared frozen. "Wh- What?"

"Good enough for me!" Philza yelled, grabbing Cam's wrist with one hand and grabbing what he could from his pile of stuff with his other.

"STOP THEM!" 

Bates screamed, as a chaos of noise erupted behind them. 

"Fire!"

Philza sprinted away, Cam in tow. Their feet splashed up water as Wehylin screamed a war cry behind them. The sound of men grunting, crossbows being fired, and the sound of the giant sword smashing and destroying to stone ground echoed like an amphitheater behind them. Philza could've swore he felt an arrow wiz over his head, and he heard Cam screech as they stumbled.

"Run. Run. Keep running." Philza pushed on Cam's back, trying to get them to go faster.

"I-" They huffed. "I can lose them. I know the stronghold in the dark. I can hide. I'm just slowing you down." A blast of light exploded behind them, Philza thought distantly that they must be using more flash grenades. "Fly. You'd be way faster."

Philza didn't have time to think about these decisions. Worry etched on his face, he cringed as he felt as if he was making the wrong decision. "Okay. But only if you promise you know you'll be fine."

"I promise." They huffed.

"Okay." Philza unfolded his wings, and for the first time since being captured, flew.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Philza plunged into the darkness. He could absolutely see nothing. But he could hear footsteps of soldiers from every direction coming at him. They must've called for reinforcements.

Philza in his hand recognized the familiar grip of the gear he had picked up. Looks like he had his bag and his sword, nothing else. The two things that mattered most.

God was Philza lucky. 

Cam was right, flying in the dark was way faster. But soon, the big ceilings closed and Philza realized that he would need to close his wings very quickly and start walking with his hand on the wall before he smashed head first into stone. Breathing heavy, he came to a halting stop, panting and leaning on his knees. He needed to keep moving. He had to. But he was tired. So exhausted. His body was not ready for this.

Philza leaned against the wall, using both his arms and his wings to cling to it. He needed to keep pulling himself forward. He hadn't lost them yet.

He could hear them gaining.

His luck was running out.

Philza for the first time in a while felt absolutely crazed out of his mind. Even when he first realized he was captured, he was calm, analytical. Now he felt trapped. This was it. This is how he would go. He thought back to home. He wasn't ever going to see them again. He wasn't-

Philza opened his eyes, unsure of when he closed them. No. You can't be thinking those thoughts. He wasn't dead yet.

Then, he saw it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. Drawing his sword and swinging his wings wildly around, he tried to hit whatever it was. He couldn't touch anything except the small corridor walls. Taking deep breaths, Philza tried to listen for whatever it was. He was met with no sound other than the splashing of boots as people were charging down the hallways trying to find him. But he couldn't hear anything that might've moved right in front of him.

He saw it again.

It was like a floating wisp, a quick flash of light. Softly glowing green, it left a trail of light behind it. Philza's heart raced. What was it?

It happened again. The glowing. Tentatively, Philza walked up to the place where it seemed to be appearing. It lit up, this time only a arms length away from Philza. But this time, it kept glowing. Philza bent over, and tilted his head, trying to a better look at this thing, but then it zoomed off into the dark, leaving it's trail of neon green light behind it.

Philza didn't know what it was doing.

"Hey!" Philza almost jumped out of his skin when he heard men yelling in the distance. "I think I see glowing!"

Philza needed to move.

Run run run run run.

So he he instinctively ran the only way he thought to be safe.

He followed the little glowing wisp.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Philza's feet pounded on the ground as he heard shouting and crossbows firing behind him. The green wisp glowed just in front of him, glowing brighter and brighter as it led him down hallway after hallway. When Philza realized that the little glowing thing wasn't going to be leading him straight into any walls, he awkwardly opened his wings in the small space and used them to propel him forward, kinda doing a half running- half flying with the space that he had. His hair whipped up around his face as he gained speed, and he felt his foot smack something almost squishy as he raced down the halls.

"DANG SILVERFISH!" He could hear a voice behind him. "DON'T LET THEM SLOW YOU DOWN!"

Philza had no idea where he was going, but he could start to see light ahead of them. A faint, glowing light that illuminated the mold incrusted corridors. That was it. That was his exit. That was all that he could see.

Philza zoomed to the light, his eyes having to re-adjust for like the third time that day. Tearing up, he forced himself to look around, to see where he was.

He was at a dead end.

No no no no no-

The room was square, with the most peculiar altar in the middle. The bottom was filled with lava, and suspended around the lava was beautifully carved stands holding what seemed to be crystalized endermen pearls with stairs leading up to it. It was almost breathtaking. Philza had never seen anything like it.

But that didn't change the fact that it was a dead end.

Philza grimaced as he felt his body starting to fail. He didn't know if he could fight his way out of this. He had put some good distance between the people who were following him, but they would be here in a matter of seconds. 

He had no idea what to do.

Philza unsheathed his sword, ready to fight when he saw the light again. The tiny wisp, moving around in the air like it was swimming, swirled around his body before dancing around the carved stands. He took a closer look, mystified at what it was doing. It danced around the crystalized ender pearls, before landing on an empty spot Philza hadn't noticed before. There were twelve spots open for a ender pearl, but the closest stand next to Philza at the top of the stone stairs was empty. 

Philza, completely forgetting the incoming danger, hobbled up the stairs. What could this thing possibly want?

Admiring the carving and exploring what it was, Philza reached down to touch the stand. He was about to let his fingers brush the delicate detailing when he heard behind him, "I SEE HIM! THERE HE IS!"

No no no no no. He thought. I can't do this. I can't-

Stumbling backwards, Philza's hand glanced off the edge of the stand.

A rumbling started to shake the floor, and Philza heard the people in the halls fumble around for their footing as he fell on the top step of the altar. What was happening? Philza's heart sped as he sat in absolute terror. He felt heat behind him from the lava pit boiling up. Something was about to happen. He could feel it.

Brilliant color exploded behind him, colors of vibrant green and blue as the whole altar was incased in a beacon like pillar of light, little wisps breaking from the intense light show and sparking around the room, like fireworks in the night sky. Philza struggled for balance as the pillar radiated extreme power and exerted strong gusts of wind, billowing out his wings and making his hair fly in his face.

And as soon as it started, it stopped.

Philza didn't remember hearing anything when the thing erupted, but once the light died down, his ears were shot. He could only hear ringing, and his heart beat.

But that wasn't the only thing that had changed.

The bottom of the altar was no longer lava. It was a black unlike he had ever seen before. Just looking at it filled him with a sense of terror, like he was looking into the void of nothing.

His heart beat blasted like drums in his ears.

Thump.

Thump. 

Thump. 

The green light that had originally led him to the room spiraled in a circle above the altar before diving directly into the black inky bottom.

Philza couldn't move. He was frozen in spot. All of his years... he had never-

"SHOOT!"

Philza whipped his head around just in time to duck as crossbolts flew above his head. They were at the end of the hall, maybe ten seconds away from entering the room.

Thump. 

It was now or never.

Thump. 

Philza grabbed his bag, grabbed his sword, and closed his eyes to take a step into the inky black void, standing on the edge of the carved stands.

Hopefully I haven't ran out of luck yet.

And he took a step in, free falling into the void as the portal closed behind him.


	9. Blood moon

Wilbur stood at the door of the family home. It was standing wide open, moonlight shining in around the silhouette of his twin standing in the doorframe. Wind blew his hair back and carried in a slight scent of campfire. In all natural terms, tonight was a good night. It was beautiful weather. Everything was glowing in the blood moon's light. The wildlife was buzzing just outside. But Wilbur couldn't stop the tears from forming in his eyes.

"So this is really it?" His voice cracked with pain.

Technoblade didn't say anything, just turning his head away from Wilbur, not looking him in the eyes. He couldn't. Not after what he was about to do.

"When... when you said you were thinking about leaving home..." Wilbur tried to get his words out of his mouth, but every syllable was like swallowing nails, "I didn't really think you were going to follow through."

Technoblade and Wilbur had grown up so fast. They had to. First their mom, then their dad. Technoblade had gotten so much stronger, taking all of his frustration out on his training, his studies, and something that nobody else had really been too fond of- exploring his fae magic.

Fae magic is to a certain extent common, but any magic that can actually be of use is really dangerous, but Technoblade had gotten it with worrying speed. There had been a reason that it wasn't till recently that using untamed magic was a big taboo. It didn't seem to concern the people of the village that much, but it had really unsettled Wilbur when Techno had said he had started to experiment.

Not because he wasn't proud. But because it was getting harder for him to read his twin. It was getting harder to know what he was thinking. But Wilbur kept trying. He was trying really hard. Because he couldn't lose another person. Not again.

"Wilbur." Techno's own voice was gentle and apologetic. "I don't understand what you don't understand. For months now, I've said the night of my 18th birthday I'm leaving."

Wilbur slammed his fist down on the hallway dresser, shaking a vase with flowers in it. "I- I thought it was all just big talk!"

Techno couldn't look at his twin. He let his hair fall over his face as he placed a hand on the wooden frame. "Wilbur, I thought you knew me."

Techno's voice was gentle, but it still hit Wilbur like a bus. Wilbur did know Techno. He had to. He was his twin. Wilbur's mouth pulled into a grim line. Maybe he had known... Maybe Wilbur was just in denial that his twin would actually want to leave him, that he wasn't enough to keep him happy.

"So-" Wilbur stuttered, "This- this is it?"

Techno thought back to all of the memories left in this house. All the good ones. The ones with mom, and her amazing tenderness. Days of working with her in the garden, talking to the plants like they were her own children, working the ground perfectly till all the vegetables grew unnaturally three times bigger than they should be. He remembers working with dad, like when Dad had found out he had stolen his training gear. He hadn't been mad but instead launched enthusiastically into a training program he made specifically for Techno. He also remembers all the research they did together, Techno reading books in his office as he listened to the quill scratch as dad wrote down his latest adventures. He remembers sitting in the backyard with Wilbur, letting him braid his hair. And he remembers Tommy and Tubbo, chasing him around the backyard with sticks pretending to be zombies trying to get him. All these memories, all these feelings, they were supposed to be happy. But Techno couldn't feel anything. He was just... so...

Numb.

Nothing was bringing him any happiness. Nothing was bringing him any meaning to life. He would just sit out in his garden, or spar. All he did was waste time. That was it. He couldn't do anything else. He didn't...

He didn't want to exist.

There was a city that had practically popped up overnight, not a day's trip from the village. Techno had been spending more and more time exploring, and found it fun to sit on this one roof top and just observe the people below. Well, not really fun. Just a way to pass the time. One day, when he entered town, there was a big crowd, bigger than the usual. They were all standing around the square, murmuring and talking between each other.

When Technoblade walked up to the crowd, he could see why. There was new signs on the bulletin board.

"As of the next 14 days, all citizens who wish to be included in the Dream Lands should apply for citizenship, or be kicked from their lands for trespassing among the King Dream's new nation!"

Technoblade rolled his eyes. This new Dream kid wasn't even older than him. Yet, he has to give him credit, he had managed to take over more land than any previous King had ever dared. There were rumors how he had gotten to power. The official reason was the previous King had retired due to health deterioration, but there was more other harsher gossip that Techno had heard. That Dream was using his magic to make his dad go insane, or that he was poisoning his mind, or that he had assassinated him and was keeping up the guise that his father was still alive. Whether or not people actually respect his rule is to be seen, but as for now, despite the rumors, he looks like he was someone of high authority. But, no matter if their house was in "his" lands or not Techno knew his family probably would just ignore this new decree.

Technoblade's ears picked up on conversations around him.

"Look at him! His fae blood must be off the charts!"

"I've never seen anybody like him."

"That hair can't be natural."

"What a freak. I'm glad my blood isn't as strong as that."

Techno's face got hot as he decided enough was enough, wishing desperately he had something to cover his face, like a mask. But he didn't, so instead he was content with shoving his hands deep into his sweater pockets. He was just walking on the outskirts of the mob when he heard something that made him stop.

"Do you see the official scoutings dropped. I've heard Dream is number one on the adventurer rankings prospects!"

Techno stopped. Rankings were something that was sort of like... A competitive sport. If you were high in rankings you were probably very famous. There were several different ranks, of all different things. But the ones that got the most attention would probably have to be warrior, magical combat, and adventurer ranks. Every five years the kingdoms come together and evaluate, often calling the candidates in to compete in huge tournaments in colosseums. It was one thing that unified the people of the overworld, a world that was very isolated from place to place. Of course if you were called you didn't have to go, but it was a great honor. There were even training schools popping up in some of the more populous cities, the ones with ancient palaces and rich history. 

He searched for the voice and found a young lady and what maybe was her boyfriend arm in arm chatting to each other. Techno thought about it- thought about asking about it, but the whole confrontation thing was scary. He didn't know how to just go up and talk to strangers. So instead, he hovered, hoping to catch more information.

"Yeah, really baby?" The man said softly in such a way Techno wouldn't have been able to hear if he had normal hearing.

"Yeah. Heard he's the first person to dethrone Philza, even after all his missing years. Honestly thought that Philza was going to hold the title forever, seeing how things were going even after his official decree of MIA."

The boyfriend whistled. "Dang. This young too? Man must be something else."

Blood boiled in Technoblade. He knew this day would come. The day people would start to forget his father's name. But to lose to such a cocky son of a-... It made Techno's hands itch for his sword.

He didn't deserve that title. He didn't deserve that spot. That spot...

That spot....

The cogs clicked in his head.

That spot should be a family name.

The realization was scary to Techno. Not because of how hard the task would be, but because of how conclusively he had come to the decision. How the fire had lit in his stomach after not feeling anything for so long. He was burning. And it wasn't a bad thing.

He thought about it. Why hadn't he thought about it before? Techno didn't mind being alone. He didn't mind the thought of possibly dying. He had loved the trips he had gone on with dad before. And he didn't mind the passionate and fierce competitiveness that was igniting his whole body.

There was just something holding him back.

Wilbur.

How could he just leave Wilbur with Tommy and Tubbo? The littles were still only 12 years old. He couldn't do that- he just couldn't. But thinking about not doing it-

That felt worse.

He would just have to break the news to Wilbur slowly.

Their 18th birthdays were more than a couple months out.

Seemed as good as time as any to make that his deadline.

Technoblade smiled for the first time in a long while, walking away from the crowd a bit taller than he had walked in.

Because he knew.

He knew that spot was his.

>{}<

Techno stared at his twin, watching the tears fall down his face.

God, this was harder than he could ever imagine.

"It's never the end." Techno muttered.

Wilbur grabbed at the sleeves of his own clothes, something he did when his hands were shaking bad. "What?"

"It'll never be the end. I will always be your twin. You guys will always be my family."

Wilbur choked back a sob. "Then why are you leaving me!"

"Wilbur-" Techno was at a loss of words. Not knowing what to say, he turned his body so he was facing Wilbur all the way. He couldn't look at him. He closed his eyes.

Techno felt Wilbur run into him, the warm embrace of a hug. His eyes opened in surprise. Wilbur clung onto him, shaking.

He couldn't hold it back anymore. He let a few tears silently fall down his face as Wilbur leaned all his weight into him. He wrapped his arms tight around Wilbur, returning the hug. When had Techno gotten so much taller than Will? He noticed distantly in the back of his head.

Wilbur hiccupped, still pressing his face into Techno's chest. "Are- are you going to say goodbye to Tommy and Tubbo?"

Here Will was, still only thinking about his family. 

Techno spoke softly, not trusting his voice anymore. "I already did- I- I said goodbye after dinner." Techno smiled sadly. "They took it a lot better than you are."

Wilbur laughed, a sound between pain and hysterics. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry- I'm sorry."

"No no." Techno put his right hand on Wilbur's head. "I'm sorry- I just..."

Wilbur hiccupped again. "I know." He sniffed. "I-I..."

Technoblade waited for him to be able to speak.

"I love you."

Technoblade hugged Wilbur closer. "I love you too."

Wilbur started laughing hysterically again, but softer. "Just- just when you meet that green faceless masked freak, you- you show him who's boss."

Techno smiled through his tears. After all this, after all this build up, Wilbur still only wanted Technoblade to be happy.

"I will. I promise."

They stood for a bit at the doorway, the cold air brought shivers down Techno's spine, but neither wanted to let go first. The clock in the hallway ticked away, counting each second.

Adventuring is dangerous. Every trip could be your last.

"I'll call home, I promise." Techno pulled Wilbur off of him at last, and his heart sunk when he saw Will's face. Will quickly wiped snot from his nose and hid his bright red-shot eyes by fluffing his hair and covering his face with his sweater. He was really trying so hard to hold it together.

Wilbur bit his lip, looking slightly up at his twin. "Yeah. Like dad did."

The words carried so much weight.

"Like dad did."

>{}<

Wilbur watched Technoblade walk away from the house, taking every bit of energy to not just crumble right there on the spot.

He couldn't believe it.

They-

They were never supposed to be apart.

He was losing another family member.

Wilbur stopped himself from thinking those thoughts as he watched through his bedroom window, seeing Techno turn around and wave one last goodbye.

He needed to pull it together.

Because this is what will make Techno happy.

>{}<

Techno blade was seriously worried about Wilbur.

But his tears had dried in his eyes as he stepped away from the house, the smell of adventure and danger filling every cell of his body.

He turned around to wave goodbye one last time, seeing Wilbur's light on in his bedroom window.

Then he strode off into the red moonlight, through the village, through all the painful memories one last time before he could just leave it all behind.

He stopped.

Techno thought he heard something.

It was faint at first, but it was definitely there.

And when Techno figured out what it was, he couldn't stop the bittersweet pain encompassing him.

It was the sound of a faint guitar and a quiet voice singing; like a ghost whispering in his ear, saying his final goodbyes.


	10. Chess

Tommy knew he wasn't supposed to be bothering Toby.

Philza had forbade him from doing so.

"The poor kid just came back from the Nether." Philza bent over, talking to Tommy in hushed tones. "He's hurt. Just-" Philza caught himself, knowing anything he said would probably be ignored. "Be gentle, alright?"

Toby was sleeping in dad's room as of now, the child having severe separation anxiety from the person who had found him. But dad was taking a break to give some time to Wilbur... Well, what dad didn't know couldn't hurt him. Walking up the stairs, he turned the corner to where dad's room was.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Tommy froze.

Technoblade was slowly closing their father's room door, stuff in his arms. Looking closer, Tommy saw that he had some of Dad's old adventuring gear. Technoblade's breath caught in his throat when they made eye contact, hand frozen on the door handle, unable to move in fear.

Tommy cleared his throat. "That's Dad's stuff."

Technoblade hugged the dangerous items closer to him. "And you are going in his room to bother Toby."

Tommy narrowed his eyes.

"Alright."

"Alright."

Technoblade carefully walked past Tommy, leaving lots of room between them when he passed. Tommy watched Technoblade look down stairs before carefully sneaking away. He wondered where he was going to hide the stuff.

Tommy shook of the weird encounter, instead tiptoeing closer to the closed door. Tommy smiled in anticipation before slowly opening it a crack.

"Hellllooooo~" Tommy whispered into the room.

He heard no reply.

"Alright~ I'm coming innnnnnnn." Tommy opened to door more.

Inside, the room was dark, like Toby was actually sleeping. Tommy couldn't believe it. This kid actually took naps instead of just messing around when he was supposed to be sleeping. On the bed was a lump of blankets and Tommy stalked the lump as he snuck across the room.

"I'm going to get youuuuuu~" Tommy laughed as he jumped up on the bed. He shook the blankets gently.

Thwack!

Tommy felt a sharp pain in his face, and his eyes watered as he pulled his face back. He opened his eyes to see Toby shaking and falling off the bed.

The kid... hit him.

Oops. Tommy rubbed his face. THIS must be why dad said not to bother him.

"Hey. It's alright." Tommy bounced on the bed, crawling to see where Toby had fallen off to.

It was weird, the kid not being able to talk back to him. Tommy kind of liked it. It made him feel like he was the bigger man for once.

When Toby didn't do anything but sit there frozen, Tommy continued to rattle on. "It was a pretty good hit. A real solid smack. I can't believe you can hit like that with those skinny arms of yours." Tommy laughed at his own joke. "Not like I'm one to talk. I- for sure- have MASSIVE MUSCLES!" Tommy flexed his own stick arms, laughing his head off. Below him on the ground, Toby started to relax. Not a lot, but enough to try to climb back into the bed and burrow under the blankets again.

"Ey! Where are you going?" Tommy tried to pull the blankets back off of him, but Toby held on tight. So, instead of trying to pull the blankets off, he decided to burrow under with him. Plunging into the soft darkness, he giggled as he went under. He could barely see Toby under the blankets, so he reached out to touch him. Toby flinched at his finger tips.

"Oops." Tommy said aloud. He could hear Philza's voice in his head. You never learn, do you?

"Sorrrryyyyyy," Tommy said in the dark. "Forgot."

Tommy left space for Toby to talk, but of course he didn't say anything.

"So... what do you want to do?"

Again, Toby didn't say anything.

"Well. I guess I could just talk about myself then." Tommy held up the blanket so there was more breathing room for the both of them.

"I haven't told you my name. My name is Tommy."

Toby just looked at him, eyes scanning his face. A bit of a reaction.

"Spelled T-O- double M- Y! And your name is Toby. T-O-B-Y. Toby!"

Tommy rambled on, getting closer and closer into Toby's personal space.

"And there's dad, D-A-D-Z-A! Dadza! He's a famous adventurer! Number uno!" Tommy smiled, proudly bragging. "Then my older- well- our older brothers Technoblade and Wilbur. T- to the E- to the -echnoblade! Hes kinda a kill joy, but he's pretty cool. He's got pointy teeth. And last, Wilbur. W-I-L-B-Y!"

Tommy threw the blankets off both of them, causing Toby to gasp and pull his hands over his head. But Tommy didn't notice. "I'm amazing at spelling! But most importantly, I'm the leader of the house! I tell everybody what to do. But don't worry! I won't make you do my chores. I'll actually probably be doing yours! How does that sound? Ey! Why you shaking?!" Tommy finally noticed that Toby had his hands pulled over his head.

Oops. He had done it again.

Tommy tried to think about what Dad would do. Tommy thought back to all the nights he couldn't fall asleep, scared of the dark and the thought of monsters coming from the wilderness and sneaking in their home. He would tell Tommy stories of how he saved people, then would tell them nothing would dare hurt him while he was here. Then, they would finish with a head pat and being sent back to bed. But, he also remembered getting a big hug before any of that happened, a huge hug that would make all the terror fade away.

"Aye... ey I'm sorry." Tommy lowered his voice. "I'm sorry." Tommy tried to lightly touch Toby's arms, and gently pulled him closer. "Nothing can hurt you when I'm here!"

Toby resisted at first, looking away from Tommy.

"Its okay! This is a hug. H-U-G. You give them to people in your family."

Tommy hugged him closer, happy when he finally felt Toby stop shaking. Dad would be so proud of him!

Tommy didn't dare move from the spot, not wanting to scare Toby. But eventually, after sitting for a good minute, Tommy started to get bored, and ran his fingers through Toby's hair.

Tommy whispered, "Can't wait for Wilbur to teach you how to talk. I'm going to do so many things with you. We're going to go outside and play, we can go to the river, we can play sticks outside. We can sneak into Abigail's house and steal her food!" Tommy gently pulled at a knot in Tobys brown hair. "And then- then we can-"

Tommy stopped talking when he heard Toby snore. The little brat had fallen asleep on him. Tommy was a bit annoyed, but was gentle with him as he laid him back down. Tommy wanted to play with him, not just have him sleep all day. But watching his new brother's little face scrunched up while he dreamed who knows what, Tommy couldn't help but smile.

Tommy flopped down next to him, laying in what used to be Mom's side of the bed. "Goodnight, Toby." Tommy whispered, staring at the ceiling. Maybe taking naps weren't such a bad thing.

>{}<

Philza walked up the stairs, ready to check up on Toby. He had spent the last two hours with Wilbur, playing chess and talking about his adventures in the Nether and what circumstances could possibly lead to Toby ending up in the Nether. He was glad he had taken the time to do so, feeling warm from his last conversation with Wilbur.

Wilbur had just made a move that was putting him dangerously close to being checked-mated. But Philza was going easy, so he pretended he didn't see. "So...." Wilbur hummed, thinking, "after all of that, and you don't think you found any clues to where Mom was taken?"

Philza made his move, deciding just to shift a pawn forward. "Unfortunately not. I think the information I had gotten was a dead end anyways." Philza felt really guilty for making his children spend their mothers disappearance anniversary alone, but so far they had all understood when he had brought Toby home. In fact, Toby's presence and Philza giving each of them their own special individual time had completely changed to whole mood in the house.

Wilbur played with his hair, thinking really hard about what move he was going to do. More than half of the pieces were already off the board at this point. Moving his knight, Wilbur continued, "So. Another dead end."

Philza didn't know exactly where this conversation was going. He took his turn, placing the marble piece down with a clink. "Yeah."

Wilbur placed his hand on his queen, letting his fingers trace over the carvings as he thought. "So-" Wilbur stuttered. "Are you- are you-"

Philza smiled. "It's alright, take your time."

Wilbur bit his lip, before pulling his hands back from the table. "Are you going to keep looking?"

Philza reached over and grabbed his hand, concerned. "Do you want me to?"

"I- I-"

"You can tell me anything. I can handle anything."

"Uhh-" Wilbur managed to get out.

Philza rubbed his sons hands, waiting for him to get his thoughts and emotions together.

"I- I don't like you being gone so much."

Philza smiled, looking lovingly at Wilbur who had hung his head, refusing to meet his eyes. "That's exactly what I was thinking as well."

Wilbur looked up. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking about it." Philza sat back in his chair, letting go of Wilbur's hands. "With Toby here, he needs special attention. So I was going to call off my trips for a good while. But I would still like to do them. Eventually. But..." Philza continued, noticing his sons dumbfounded face, "They don't have to be so intense. Think of them less of searching for Mom, and more just... exploring. I was even thinking of bringing you and Techno along, either one at a time or together. I'm sure Abigail would love to watch Tommy and Tubbo."

Philza waited for Wilbur to respond.

"How does that sound?"

Wilbur didn't respond, and Philza thought back to what he said to see if he said something wrong. But then Wilbur stood up, and walked to the other side of the table, falling into Philza in a hug.

"Yeah- yeah that sounds perfect."

Philza laughed, rubbing Wilbur's back.

"You knocked over all our chess pieces."

Wilbur laughed back, clearly a little sniffle in his voice. "I was going to win anyways."

"Sure you were."

Philza smiled to himself, grateful that he had had the conversation with Will. Next he would have to talk to Techno and Tommy, but first he needed to see if Tubbo was still sleeping. Standing at the top of the stairs, he groaned when he saw his bedroom door open

Tommmyyyyyy...

Philza walked to the doorframe, expecting the worst. But he was pleasantly surprised.

Instead of the entire room being completely destroyed, Philza could hear two steady little breaths from his bed and two lumps hiding under the blankets. Carefully walking up to them, he pulled the blankets off of their heads and saw his two boys sleeping peacefully right next to each other.

Philza was worried that Tommy wouldn't know how to be careful. But it seemed that he was wrong.

Rubbing both of their shoulders affectionately, Philza pulled both blankets over them.

He had sure proved him wrong.


	11. Bandages

"One, Two,"

Wilbur stood at the side of the path. His voice was calm, his demeanor perfectly unreadable. But inside he was shaking. He trusted Tommy. But standing with his back away from the number one adventurer and powerhouse, he looked so small with the bow in his hands.

It was Wilbur who had thought of the duel.

It would be his fault if Tommy died.

"Three, Four"

Wilbur ran away, hearing the sounds of TNT light. Multiple TNT. Even though Dream had only lit one. He watched Tommy jump into the water, quickly following suit and holding his breath as he plunged into the cold river. He felt the cold gaze of Eret from the other side of the battle field. Wilbur didn't understand why-

"Five, Six"

Wilbur stood at the podium. He read the election announcements. His throat tightened as he was forced to declare Schlatt as the winner.

"Seven, Eight,"

It was the same place where Tubbo would stand, panicked, as he was surrounded in concrete and Techno held the rocket launcher to his head.

"Nine."

Wilbur stood in the room, carving words to his nation's anthem into the walls. He didn't know what he was doing. He sung softly as he brought in the wood chair and place in in front of the button, so he could just stare and look at it. He brought his hand up above his head, and swung down, just like he had so long ago at the duel.

"Ten paces, fire."

"Aye! Wilbur!" Wilbur felt himself being shaken. He didn't realize how short his breaths had become. His lips were numb and his fingers tingled as he realized he wasn't getting enough oxygen.

He was-

He was hyperventilating.

"Wilbur!"

Wilbur opened his eyes, but he couldn't focus on anything. Everything was blurry. He couldn't-

Every touch felt so distant. He wasn't in his own skin. But he knew that Tommy had his hands on his arms.

"Wilbur, look at me."

Those words broke through to him. He broke through the hyperventilating and took a deep gasp like had never breathed before, reaching up and clutching Tommy's shirt. He was still shaking. 

"Hey. It's okay." Tommy said. "Look at me." 

Wilbur looked up, but not into his eyes. He could only look at the scar on Tommy's chin. The place where Dream's arrow struck and caused Tommy to lose the duel. It was easier then looking at Tommy's eyes.

He sat on the dirt of the underground ravine, the light of the fireplace allowed them to see far enough to the next lantern, and warmed the immediate vicinity. Wilbur didn't remember sitting down by it.

Tommy's hands were cracked and busted, knuckles bloodied from his brawl with Technoblade. Just a couple hours ago, Wilbur had lost his mind thinking about how funny it would be if Tommy and Technoblade had just killed each other in the pit, yet here Tommy was, making sure he was okay.

Wilbur guiltily looked at Tommy's bruises, his black eye and bloody nose. Technoblade had gone easy, Wilbur knows that if he wanted his twin could've just snapped Tommy's neck. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to duke it out until Tommy had learned his lesson. That he was not somebody Tommy could stand against.

"I-" Wilbur managed to whisper "I- must've fallen asleep."

Tommy grabbed Wilbur's shoulders. "You had your eyes open."

Wilbur didn't remember that. He was sure he had been somewhere else. He couldn't have had such vivid memories unless he was asleep. "No, I didn't-"

"Yes you did. I was just getting back inside when you just stopped walking. You like- fell. But not really. You started shaking really bad then slid down the wall before you just kinda,-"

Wilbur couldn't remember anything but Tommy's fight in the pit. Wilbur couldn't think.

"Inside?"

Tommy averted his eyes, his face turning pale. "Uhh- Tubbo wanted to see the sun set. Me and Niki helped him outside."

Wilbur heard what he had said, but not really.

"Where's Techno?"

Tommy huffed. "Good for nothing son of-" Tommy coughed. "He left. I hope he never shows his face again here ever again."

Wilbur knew he would be back. But he wanted him right now. Wilbur wanted to have someone. Tommy- Tommy wasn't his twin. Wilbur's hands itched for his instrument, but he had left it back at Manburg. Tubbo had talked about getting it back for him, but clearly he couldn't now.

They stayed there, neither moving. Wilbur couldn't. He felt like he was drowning. And Tommy was just trying his best. He could barely stand watching Wilbur like this. Tommy knew Wilbur was strong. Tommy knew that Wilbur was smart. Tommy trusted Wilbur-

Wilbur didn't like the way Tommy was looking at him. 

"Let's go see Tubbo." Wilbur didn't phrase it like a question. Wilbur needed to keep moving. He couldn't question himself. He just needed to keep going.

Tommy helped Wilbur stand up, and together they walked up the long set of stairs back to the very entrance of Pogtopia where Tubbo and Niki in the orange cot, Nikki wrapping his arms in bandages.

Wilbur could almost feel Tubbo's injuries. Technoblade had told Wilbur after that he had purposefully shot the fireworks in such a way that the heat of the blast would be on Schlatt and Quackity, but Tommy would never see it that way. But sitting here watching Tubbo wince at every movement, Wilbur could understand Tommy's frustration.

Wilbur didn't understand what was wrong with him. Sometimes he cared so much about his family. Other times he found himself not caring whether they lived or died. Sometimes it scared him, sometimes it didn't.

Tubbo smiled weakly, his voice soft. "Heyyyy Wilbur."

Niki smiled uneasily when they entered the room, her soft hair falling in her eyes as she looked at them. "Hi Wilbur."

Tubbo's arm was in a sling, his charred suit had been cut in weird places so that they could reach his burns without taking off his shirt and hurting his broken arm. They had to work fast, because they didn't want the fabric to melt and scar into his scorched skin, otherwise they would've had to peel it off and that wouldn't have been fun. Luckily for Tubbo, Techno had a couple bottles of healing potions and strength potions that were practically holding him together.

Wilbur didn't know what state Tubbo would've been in without them.

Wilbur thought about what Techno had said.

"For the longest time... I had thought that if Tubbo was put in a life or death situation, it would trigger something inside him. Because he was a Nether Child... after today, after nothing happened, I'm starting to wonder if anything will ever happen. I don't understand." Techno had looked down at his crossbow. "It was fire too... I thought maybe we'd be lucky and he'd just be immune, but..."

"How are you feeling, Tubbo?" Wilbur smiled and sat down on the floor by the small cot. Niki studied him closely, as if waiting for him to slip up.

Don't look at me don't look at me don't look at me-

Tubbo's words were a bit slurred. "What did you say?"

Tommy sat down next to Wilbur, wrapping his knuckles in bandages. Wilbur noticed how Tommy refused to use any healing potions, saving them for Tubbo. "His hearing is all knocked up. You're going to have to talk loud."

"Oh." Wilbur said, before scooting closer to the bed. "HOW- ARE- YOU- FEELING?"

Tubbo smiled, able to hear Wilbur the second time. "I'm doing- doing aaaammmazzzziiinnnggg." The potions were definitely numbing his pain.

Tommy muttered under his breath, "At least we know he's not a traitor- Will." He said his name with such accusation.

Tubbo, not hearing what Tommy had said, continued talking. "Wilburrrr, are you alright? You didn't get hurt, did ya?"

Wilbur thought back to his absolute meltdown he had when he couldn't find the button. He felt like a wild animal, derangely digging into the side of the hill looking. He felt like clawing into his own skin and ripping at his arms until he bled, pulling at his hair until he just ripped his scalp off. But he didn't say that. "OH- I'M DOING FINE! I'M GLAD YOU ARE FEELING BETTER!"

"Meeeee tooooo~."

Tubbo smiled, his eyes closing slightly. Patting the bed beside him, Tubbo signaled Tommy to sit by him. Grunting as he stood up, Tommy sat gently next to Tubbo on the cot, carefully placing the blankets back on their laps.

Wilbur and Niki sat awkwardly to the side, watching it happen. The tension in the air was hardly breathable. Wilbur tried his best not to lose himself again, not in front of all of them.

"YOU COMFY?" Tommy yelled at Tubbo, gingerly making sure he wasn't hurting him.

"Yeahhhhh-" Tubbo frowned, curling up so his good arm was covering his broken arm, almost instinctively. "I'm just- I'm just so tired..."

"YEAH?"

"Yeahhhhhh..."

Niki smiled but was wracked with concern, playing with bandages in her hand. "It's okay to go to sleep, Tubbo." Her voice was so soothing. Wilbur felt himself relaxing a bit despite the words not being directed at him.

"Okay... Niki." It wasn't long before Tubbo had closed his eyes and was leaning against Tommy, Tommy now stuck in place unable to move without waking him up.

Niki stood up, placing her first aid kit back down on the top of a chest. "Wilbur, I kind of wanted to talk to you. Maybe just some one on one time."

She knows she knows she knows don't look at me don't look at me don't look at me-

Wilbur stood up as well, looking down at both of them. "I would love to, but I'm going to go find Technoblade."

"Awww, don't bring that filthy pig back here. Let him run." Tommy whispered as to not wake Tubbo.

Wilbur ignored Tommy, instead walking out of their secret door into the outside world. He heard Tommy complaining as he locked the door back up again.

"Bye Wilbur." Niki waved shyly, her voice laced with sadness.

"Make sure you re-apply healing potions to Tubbo in an hour." Wilbur was surprised he remembered that.

"I will." Tommy stopped his grumbling and watched concerned as Wilbur closed the door behind him, not knowing exactly where Will was going.

But Wilbur knew exactly where he was heading.

And it wasn't to find Technoblade.

Wilbur could've cried when he had found the secret passage. It was so unfair. He wanted to scream. Why could he find it now? Why couldn't he find it before?

Pulling at his hair, Wilbur walked up the steps and re-closed the door behind him, feeling like he could finally breathe. He didn't have to hold it in. All the noises, all the voices in his head screamed contradicting things at him, he could act crazy in the confines of this room without anybody worrying about him. Without worrying about them looking at him. They were always looking at him. Looking at him to lead. Tommy looked to him for help. Looking at him to watch him fall.

You're insane.

No you're not, you're just doing the sensible thing.

It's just a backup plan.

Then why do you want to do it so bad?

Why do you want to see others suffer so bad?

I don't-

Yes I do.

Why don't you feel sorry for Tubbo anymore?

I do.

I do.

I do.

Why do you feel so alone?

I'm not.

I have Tommy and Tubbo and Technoblade and Niki.

No you don't.

They all hate you.

Niki knows she knows she knows she knows-

They all do.

They all hate you.

They just have you close so they can watch you close.

They want to make sure that when you snap, they are there to put you out of your misery as quickly as possible.

Technoblade will kill you.

Wilbur smiled.

Wouldn't want it any other way.

Wilbur thought that if he was ever going to go out early, he didn't want it to be suicide. He wanted to make someone else murder him. He wanted to make sure someone carried that guilt for the rest of their life.

Yes. Yes.

Death sounds so nice.

The idea....

It made him happy.

Wilbur walked to the end of the hall, where he had the button room set up. He sat, took his familiar spot on the wooden chair, and leaned back. He was getting all sorts of thoughts in his head. Crazy, insane thoughts.

Maybe he should take Tommy down here. Make him watch when he pressed it.

Wilbur laughed. Then stopped. Tommy cared about him. Didn't want to cause him pain. Wilbur didn't know what was his thoughts and what was insanity grabbing hold of him. He couldn't decipher the voices.

He sighed, staring at the button, and let the voices scream in his head whether or not to destroy his crumbling nation and his crumbling humanity.

Funny thing was, both sides were making convincing arguments


	12. Just Breathe

Sally was about to lose her mind.

Sighing to herself, she rubbed her temples, thinking about what she could possibly be doing wrong.

Her and her clan had made the trip to the underwater science labs, a giant underwater scientific palace that was controlled by a large clan of scientifically advanced Mer-folk. Clans often split off into one of three categories- they used magic, used science, or used neither. Sally's own clan used a mix of all three, something that Sally thought made her unique and believed that that what was going to make the difference between succeeding and failing. But she had to do her experiments at the professional grade labs, it was one of the only places that would have the equipment for the experiments that she was trying to complete. Emphasis on trying.

Sally was in the middle of running over her last failed experiment notes as one of the lab workers swam in, her tail changing to legs as she walked into the bubble of air that Sally was working in.

Sally wished she could be working underwater, it being really annoying needing to step back into the water every 30 minutes or so. But it was necessary. Sally shuddered thinking of that particular experiment.

Sally's goal was to create a hybrid-mutant mer-child who could not only breath underwater, but also be above water for extended amounts of time. Then, she would use that Mer-child as a donor for her to use the child's body parts to try to synthesize a serum that, if injected, could allow Mer-folk to enhance their powers and breathe above land for long periods of time. Only then would her clan be able to take revenge on those who had wronged them. 

Sally had this goal for a long time. She started at her own lab back at home, and after failed multiple results, she decided maybe it was the blood donor. But when she killed a different human and harvested their blood, the results weren't any different. She tried again. And again. And it didn't work. Then she decided it must be her equipment. So she proposed the plan to travel to the ocean temple, her clan was more than happy to make the trip. Then she met him.

Wilbur.

She was so sure that his blood would work. So sure. He radiated strong fae magic. And when he said yes to giving her blood, she was over the moon. She enthusiastically had drawn his blood, not caring that he had just passed out. She might've taken just a tad bit too much, but she didn't know exactly how much blood a land dweller could lose before it became dangerous. After she had distilled his blood of the toxins they had drank together that night, she was so sure that her experiments would work as soon as she got to the ocean temple.

But it didn't.

The first experiment resulted in the first live heartbeat from a genetically mutated child. A huge leap from the results she was getting before. It had a heart beat for only three minutes though.

The second semi- successful experiment she decided to bypass the fetus stage, instead using magic to form a body before trying to give it a soul and a heartbeat. It had worked, the child was strong and healthy. One problem. The child couldn't breath underwater. Hence why she was now working in the annoying 50/50 lab of half water and half air. She didn't want another drowned baby in her lab.

After that experiment, they all just got progressively worse. They came out all mutilated, human and mer traits fusing together unnaturally.

Sally could only handle seeing the dead children's corpses so many times. She was doing this because it was for the greater good, but it still didn't stop the aching when she had to have another assistant carry another small body bag out of her room.

But she was so sure that this one would work.

It had to.

It was the last bit of blood she had. She was a hundred percent sure that Wilbur's blood had been perfect. He wasn't the problem. She just- she wasn't trying hard enough.

Sally sighed and turned around addressing the lab worker who bowed to her.

"How may I help you?" She sat poised in her lab chair.

"I have an official decree from the head clan elders of the ocean temple. It's sealed." The assistant walked forward and placed the slick water proof paper in her hands, watching curiously as she was about to open it.

She raised her eyebrows. "Anything else?"

"No ma'am."

She waited a second before exasperatedly putting the paper down. "If you will excuse me, I'll be getting back to work now."

The assistant's faces flushed red with embarrassment. "Sorry, M'lady." They quickly walked back out of the room, splashing as they jumped into the water. Sally rolled her eyes. These assistants were so nosy.

She picked up the paper on her desk, curious to what it was. Breaking the seal, she scrunched her eyes as she had trouble believing what she was reading.

By order and decree of the Clan Elders of the Ocean Temple and Scientific Labs...

We hereby give a warning of three days for (Untranslatable) to vacate the lab that was loaned to her.

Reason: (Untranslatable) has repeatedly broken mer-folk natural rights, mainly consisting of unlawful experimentation of Mer-children....-

The document went on, but Sally couldn't read anymore.

She was shaking in rage.

She was putting herself through the turmoil, through the pain, experimentation, and danger of the unknown so that the next generation of Mer-folk would have a better chance of surviving. Not being trafficked by the dirty, disgusting land dwellers who saw their kind as a product to be sold.

Sally knew first hand how damaging it was to a person's mind to be trafficked.

She thought that the clan was okay with what she was doing. She had made it very clear that she was experimenting with HUMAN blood. She thought that would be enough for them to let the experiments slide. After all, most clan leaders let anything slide if it was against a human. Mer-folk laws only portrayed to mer-folk after all. Almost all clans have no qualms about killing humans.

She guessed after the children started showing more mer-folk features, they started to re-think their decision.

This couldn't be happening this couldn't be happening this couldn't-

Sally threw her notes off her table with a sweep of her arms, her anger needed to be taken out on something.

She needed to complete her experiment.

She needed to do it right.

She only had three days.

She crouched on the floor, head in her hands.

Think think think think think think think.

A distant thought entered her mind.

An idea.

Scrambling like a madman, Sally threw herself at her writing board, writing her new idea as scrawled print as she tried to get the entire idea out onto the page.

Three days...

She had three days.

>{}<

It was the last day.

Sally hadn't slept. Barely ate. All she did was work.

Hair disheveled and a wild look in her eyes, she stood around what she would call her biggest breakthrough yet.

She had all the supplies ready.

All the things were set in motion.

And to top it all off, tonight was a prime night for her star sign, she could feel her energy flowing especially powerful in her veins.

It was going to work.

She held out a scroll she had found.

Sally had been going about this all wrong.

Why was she so focused on finding a scientific way to solve the problem, when she could cut through corners using magic that science would never be able to accomplish.

She had synthesized a body. She made the child about 1 and 1/2 years old. She didn't want to deal with an infant.

Breathe.

She told herself.

She couldn't mess up the incantation.

Sally coughed into her hand, before unrolling the scroll and started to sing the song inscribed.

Wind picked up in her lab, shifting her equipment and blowing her papers off her table. Her voice was sharp and deadly, beautiful in a way like frostbite, intricate and deadly. Her vision filled with blue light as her eyes started to glow and her hair hovered around her as she threw her hand out, channeling the energy.

Knocking happened from outside the room that she had locked herself in.

"Open up! Your time is up!" The voice called.

Sally couldn't lose focus. She kept singing.

"HEY!" The knocking increased.

Now here came the hard part.

Sally stopped singing, the magical energy swirling above the spot where she was going to create the child. She let the scroll flutter to the ground, using one hand to grab the last vial of Wilbur's blood and smashed it on the ground, the blood immediately being sucked into the magical vortex.

Then she grabbed a piece of fabric, and bit hard into it.

She hesitated.

She was so desperate.

But was she this desperate?

Knocking on the door increased.

"You have ten minutes before we bust open this door!"

Yes. Yes she was that desperate.

In one quick motion, Sally reached behind her, grabbed the knife off the table, and brought it down on her ear before she could really think about it.

The blade sliced her ear off in a jagged line, blood spurting and falling like a leaking faucet on her shoulder. She screamed in pain, falling to her knees and clutching the wound, wet blood sticking her fingers together.

It hurt.

So bad.

Her ear fell to the floor with a soft thud, and blood splattered all over the floor. Tears pricked her eyes as she bit down into the cloth. She was so close to losing consciousness. The knife clattered to the ground next, as she had no strength to hold onto it anymore.

Sally cried into the cloth as she picked up her chopped ear and threw it into the vortex. She didn't really know what she was doing. Her vision faded in and out. Worried voices from the other side of the door screamed, but she couldn't make out the words.

She fell to her knees, and closed her eyes.

>{}<

She woke up to crying.

Sally was on the floor in a fetal position, hand stuck to her ear from hardening blood. Tears still falling from her face, she sat up and looked for the noise.

The child.

Sally had almost forgotten.

It had worked?

She drug herself forward, blood still slick on the floor.

Her head pounded as she looked at it.

The frail thing.

She gritted her teeth, and pulled it close.

It looked perfect.

It was-

It was a beautiful baby girl.

Sally started crying heavy again, this time not because of pain.

This was different then all of her other experiments.

This was her child.

Sally just knew. She felt it in her chest. This baby girl was hers. All the other failed experiments had just been that, failed experiments. But as she looked at the child, she knew it was an extension of herself. Sally smiled, hands coated in blood and tears, and she gently wrapped her arms around the child.

The child had her hair.

Bright orange hair.

But it had Wilbur's eyes.

The thought scared Sally.

She hadn't asked-

She hadn't asked if this was okay.

Wilbur only knew that she had taken his blood-

Not that-

Not this-

All the other children were just concoctions.

But this child-

This was their actual child.

Sally started to feel her ear throbbing again. Her hair was stuck to the side of her face. Running her fingers through her daughter's hair, she felt something odd.

She held her crying child closer, shushing her. Looking closely, she could see what she was feeling.

Little baby ears.

Little baby animal ears.

Little baby... fox ears?

Sally was so confused. It was supposed to be a mer-folk. Panic raised in her body. What if- no. No. No!

It had to have worked.

It had to have.

Sally clutched the child close to her, crawling to the water portion of her room.

I swear to God, if his fae blood overpowered her Mer-folk blood-

Grinding her teeth, she couldn't see straight. Anger filled her every bone. NO NO NO NO NO.

She got to the wall of water where her bubble of air ended, as she struggled to hold onto the squirming child.

"Hold still-" She whispered, her voice not working properly.

"OPEN UP!" The screaming continued. "YOUR 10 MINUTES ARE UP!"

Sally grabbed hold of her child firmly, before shoving its head underwater. The child squirmed and flailed, obviously not enjoying the experience.

Common. Common. COMMON COMMON COMMON COMMON!!

IT ALL CAN'T BE FOR NOTHING!

JUST BREATHE!

JUST BREATHE!

JUST TAKE IN THE WATER!

NO

IT CAN'T BE OVER!

NO!

NO!

NO!

Bubbles came from the child's mouth as it slowly stopped moving.

No no no nononononononononononnonononono-

The door swung open. Sally looked up wildly as the people who were coming to collect her stared dumbfounded at the scene before them.

Sally couldn't stay awake anymore.

She hit her head hard as she fell over, blood loss causing her to lose consciousness.

>{}<

"In conclusion, the offender has been sentenced to a life sentence in the easter clan's asylums, for the safety of herself and those who surround her. Her charges are include but are not limited to- self mutilation, abuse of magic, attempted suicide, child murder, unlawful experimentation, and attempted murder. This list isn't all inclusive."

Sally couldn't breath.

"And how does the defendant plead?"

The voice echoed through the ocean palace, and Sally clenched her eye closed. She couldn't do this.

Even broken, Sally still was beautiful.

She stood, well, swam in the center of the ornate room of beautifully carved blue marble that made up the ocean courtrooms. It surprised most land dwellers that they had such sophisticated rules, despite only just being clans and for their laid back views of killing humans, but there were intricate systems that were almost universal from clan to clan, despite how isolated each one was.

The ancient room was almost too beautiful for what was happening. Guardian fish swam above the room, the security measures, circling like sharks. It was the only real movement, other than her racing heart.

The stand that she was standing on was raised, making her only shorter than the clan leaders at the podium. They looked down on her like they could see every sin she had ever committed. The tribe mer-folk that were allowed to watch sat hushed below, often murmuring when the conditions of how she was arrested were publicly announced.

She doesn't blame them. It was quite the spectacle.

Her hands were in beautiful chains, crafted with pearls and shells and lined with soft fabrics, and her orange hair had been cut so that the doctors could fix what they could of her ear. A bandage wrapped the left side of her face, covering her ear and eye.

Her ear she had taken in desperation.

Her eye she had taken in guilt, hoping to kill herself.

She hung her head, her good eye leaking tears. She wanted her child. So bad. She was so close to completely shattering.

She said what she was told she should say.

"I-" Her beautiful confident voice was now just barely a whisper. "I plead guilty."

She was so frail, thin body bony from starving herself. Her hair floated gracefully around her head, like a beacon of light in the blue room. But she wanted anything but to be the center of attention.

The room murmured with interest as the the public watched the bizarre events in front of them unfold. The judges above them congressed and whispered among themselves as well.

Sally could block everything out.

She was lost in her head.

She wanted out.

She wanted help.

She wanted to die.

"One last thing before we finally put this case to rest." Sally looked up for the first time, slightly shocked as she realized she had been tuning out most of the going ons of her own court case.

"What to do with the child."

Sally felt her eye threaten to cry again. Her chains clinked like delicate china as she moved.

"Would the defendant's defender like to propose an idea?"

Sally heard her kind defender swim up next to her. The young man was fixated on her case, sure that he could get her the least worst punishment possible. Sally didn't really care. She was just happy when she had gone into gory detail after gory detail he had only been intrigued, not disgusted. He was the first person who treated her with sympathy and not like she was a monster.

"I would love to." He said with such confidence.

Sally felt a shadow pass over her. It reminded her of Wilbur.

"Despite the horrible things our defendant has done, we have all seen tonight that it was more misguided mental illness of past trauma than malicious intent."

The crowd quietly agreed, the positive feedback bouncing off the walls.

"So, seeing on how the child is unfit to be taken care of by (Untranslatable), she has requested that she be put into the clan's care, choosing a couple that have volunteered, whom that have been unable to have children for a while now and have been wishing for a child. It makes the most logical sense, and this way, the child doesn't have to be parentless, not raised by the clan as a whole as is normal protocol, and if the child wanted to, when it was older, it could visit (untranslatable) if she so wished."

He finished his idea with a confident close of his binder he was reading from, looking smugly up at the clan elders.

"Your opinion has been taken into consideration."

"Thank you, your honors."

The leaders looked at each other, before the one in the middle spoke up.

"If I am not wrong, this child was created using unnatural means?"

Sally's lawyer looked a bit uncomfortable. "Yes, your honor."

"And (untranslatable) wasn't the only person who was responsible for bringing about this child."

"Well, no your honor."

"We want to ask (untranslatable) directly." The room got very quiet.

"Of course your honor."

"(Untranslatable)- did you or did you not use the blood of a half human half fae land dweller by the name of "Wilbur Soot."

Sally swallowed painfully. "I did."

"And did he or did he not give permission to use his blood to accomplish your goal?"

"Yes, but-"

The judge cut her off, and Sally's heart raced. No. She didn't want to burden him with this.

"And is the child more fae than it is mer-folk?"

Sally was at a loss of words. "I wouldn't know- not- not unless... not unless I ran tests."

The judge frowned, clearly not getting the answer he wanted. "Can the child breathe underwater?"

"N- no."

The clan leader bellowed loudly. "There we have it! In this case, it seems to us that our problem is only (untranslatable). The child, being more land dweller than mer-folk, shouldn't be our decision."

Sally felt the world collapsing in her. No. No. They couldn't- They can't-

"We have ruled that (untranslatable)'s child will be put into the care of this "Wilbur Soot", and if he does not wish to have to bear the burden of raising this child then he will have to deal with this with his own people."

No no nononononononononon-

They were going to take her away-

They were going to-

"All in favor, say aye!"

NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO-

The courtroom resounded in a unanimous chorus.

"AYE."


	13. The End

The void.

He was falling.

He couldn't feel his body.

He didn't exist.

He didn't-

Philza grunted in pain as hit to ground. He groaned, clenching his eyes closed and putting his forehead flat against the ground.

Well. He was no longer falling.

And he definitely felt like he existed. 

Where was he-?

CLANK

Philza flinched as his dropped sword landed right to the left of him, followed by the sound of things in his bag shattering directly to the right of him.

Great.

He couldn't think. He just couldn't. All the exhaustion and the fading effects of the potion had left him completely useless.

So he just laid there.

At least he wasn't dead.

Time passed.

Philza had managed to turn around on his back to try to reach his bag.

But he was frozen when he finally looked up.

It was-

It was just black.

The sky was just black.

It was nothing, like the inky void Philza had jumped into.

He couldn't wrap his head around it.

He couldn't.

There was just- nothing.

Philza could think about that another time.

Instead he focused on his survival.

Like how freaking bad his body ached.

According to Wehylin, he was out three days before any of this had even happened.

And boy was he hungry.

Philza's stomach growled loudly, a sound that broke the constant humming of wherever he was.

Reaching over, he swung his arm to grab the bag. Fumbling with his dizzy head and trembling hands, he grabbed his bag and opened it, glass shards spilling from the open lid. Wehylin must've put more potions inside. Philza grumbled, thinking about all the books that were going to be soaked through with wasted potions. Well, maybe not so wasted. Sticking his hand in, Philza could feel the potions sinking into his skin, helping numb his bruising. But that wasn't what he was after. Philza gently shifted through the broken glass, before grasping triumphantly on a bag of rations. Opening it up, he laid on his back gleefully eating it as he couldn't handle the hunger anymore.

And that's all he had on his mind.

That's why when he heard the teleportation sound, he was nearly scared half to death.

Philza closed his eyes when he saw the enderman teleported right next to him, practically standing on his sword.

Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot

He would not survive if he was caught in a fight.

He heard the weird little croaking like noise as the endermen just stood there, probably looking straight at Philza waiting for him to open his eyes.

This was bad this was bad this is bad

But all he would need to do would be to wait it out.

He waited for the long gangly, disgusting monster to keep moving on.

And he didn't open his eyes again till he was sure he had heard it teleport away.

Jesus chrissstttt

Philza didn't waste anymore time reaching over and grabbing his sword.

He needed to stand up.

Stumbling to his feet, he winced as he put weight into his still very broken ankles. The world spinned as his head tried to keep up with the movement, and he had to stop himself from puking up the rations he had just choked down.

It took all of Philza's strength to keep standing.

Giant black towers of different heights were in a formation of a circle, encompassing what seemed to be an altar in the middle.

And around that altar...

It was a sea of endermen.

On an island.

Floating in the middle of the void.

Surrounded by nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Philza, despite all his years of seeing everything, had found something that still blew his mind.

A rumble shook the dirty yellow ground, the endermen splitting off in all directions.

He ducked slightly, huge wing flaps blowing up dust around him.

The gusts of air blew over his head.

Philza's weak legs gave out, and he fell to his knees.

It was a giant majestic beast, with black scales only distinguishable from the void because of their reflective sheen, the scales clinking together like the gentle sound of shifting armor. Giant all-encompassing wings bigger than any creature of the overworld, wings not much unlike Philza's, flew above, muscles rippling like waves on a sea. The beast flew gracefully in the air; letting off a roar like nothing Philza had ever heard before, sending chills down his spine. Philza looked up in wonder, having never seen anything so beautiful before. He thought to all his books, all the legends, all the research he had studied. His head could only come up with one word, one ancient legend that was only spoke of in stories. A legend that nobody alive had ever seen. Well, until him. It was something that couldn't have possibly been real.

It was a dragon.


	14. Logs

LOG 36

*Note- Logs are not counting days, but occurrences. There is no time in the void. The only thing giving any regularity was meals and when I am hungry.

Today I finally managed to construct a home so I don't have to worry about getting shanked all the time. Hurray.

Also, my rations are quickly running out. I need to start trying to find different food supplies. Might go exploring tomorrow, legs feeling a bit better.

LOG 37

The dragon did NOT like it when I got close to the pillars. I was quickly overtook by it, and only just managed to fly away before getting almost hit by what seemed purple projectile magic. Will not be exploring that area until feeling better.

LOG 42

It's official. You cannot eat endermen.

I tried burning them, cooking them, boiling them, raw, but every time I got close to putting it in my mouth I just puked instead. Not fun. Going to need to find food soon.

LOG 45

Yay! I'm not going to starve to death!

I have discovered a naturally occurring plant in the void, and wow, it's edible!

Neat.

It's very juicy as well, most of it is practically water.

Which helps with my water problem too.

Only there has to be a catch.

If you eat it too fast, you teleport like an endermen.

Don't ask. It wasn't a fun experience.

LOG 50

I've been pondering things lately.

Like the existence of this place?

What exactly is it?

Where exactly is it?

Nobody was going to answer any of my questions. But I can't stop thinking about it.

It's like the nether.

Is it another leakage point of another world?

Does that mean, maybe, the overworld isn't... like... the main world?

What if- what if there was a world with no magic?

That would be stupid, wouldn't it?

LOG 52

Been doing more thinking.

How long have I been down here?

Time doesn't feel real here.

Definitely doesn't when you have endermen screaming in your ear all the time.

I'm thissssss close to slaughtering them all.

But I'm not feeling 100% yet, so maybe I'll wait a bit.

LOG 70

God, did I miss my family.

I really just wanted to get home.

I wonder how they are doing?

I wonder how long I've been gone.

I wonder how things went with... uhhhh... what was her name?

Wehylin? Maybe? And the other one was Cam. I know that.

God.

Hopefully this place wasn't screwing with my mental capabilities.

LOG 72

I've always recorded my adventures.

Always took notes.

But this is the first time...

I feel like I'm really seeing something that nobody has seen before.

Something that nobody was ever going to see after me.

I just need to live to share my findings.

And so I can get home.

I need to be home.

LOG 73

Been thinking about how I almost let Technoblade come on this trip with me.

Now that would've been bad, wouldn't it?

LOG 77

Just realized something. The dragon, who I've decided definitely was a female and was definitely named Rutha. Don't ask me why. I don't make the rules.

Well, Rutha definitely doesn't spend all her time on this island... so where does she go?

Ohohohoh am I excited. I've been harvesting tons of fruit and testing my wings out for long distance flying. I'm going to get a good sleep, then I'm heading void diving.

LOG 79

I definitely flew in the wrong direction.

I flew for hours, my wings absolutely screaming from overuse. I didn't find anything.

Whoops.

Maybe I should've looked which way the dragon flies off to.

LOG 82

This time I actually looked at which way Rutha flew away. But the first problem was getting her to come to me in the first place. So I flew into the pillars that she was so protective over. That got her attention fast.

Then I waited for her to leave.

Then I followed her.

And to my delight, we eventually landed on a different island.

I was so happy, my wings felt like they were going to fall off. I was way happier to crash land into the disgusting sandy dirt then into the void.

Now I'm walking.

And boy, are things crazy over here.

You'll never guess what I found.

More endermen.

Crazy, right?!

LOG 83

I'm walking now, my wings absolutely shot.

It was much of the same thing, just empty landscapes.

But then I realized something...

How am I seeing anything?

The sky is pitch black.

But I still see?

I don't even know anymore.

LOG 84

For the first time since falling in here, I had found more structures.

These ones were giant towering buildings made of purple bricks.

But that wasn't the most exciting part.

I found signs of past civilizations.

Going through the buildings, slaughtering these square like things that had huge mouths that opened at shot things at you, I found a chest with things from the overworld in it.

IDK how any of it got here.

But it gave me hope for getting out.

If somebody before me managed it, I sure as hell can

LOG 85

For the past couple days I've been doing research.

I found paintings. Paintings of the dragon. Probably not Rutha. But some dragon that looked very similar.

Or maybe it was. IDK how long dragons live.

Weird to think that dragons actually exist. 

I had found books too, that I've taken to deciphering.

The text is ancient, practically just hieroglyphic scrawls. It's so hard to try to decipher.

But I've got time to kill.

LOG 90

I've been thinking again.

Why did that portal call to me?

Like, why to me specifically?

There were already tons of people at the "stronghold"

Why did it only open when I touched it?

Does it have something to do with...

Well, my fae magic?

My wings do...

I don't now anymore.

Well... anyways I've haven't gotten far on deciphering anything. At least not anything that could be of use.

Note* had to move onto new empty book. Good thing I had a couple of adventuring journals and pens to keep notes in. Normally I only bring one, but I was about finished with my last one so I had two this time. I'd prob go crazy if I didn't have anything to record my findings in. Also glad I enchanted them to be water proof, the potions that shattered when I first got here would've soaked them through. Too bad I wasn't able to save the jars. I might've been able to preserve some... IDK what but I would've been able to bring some liquids home with me. Maybe some dragon blood? maybe? That is if I ever get home.

LOG 91

Hurray! I've deciphered something of use!

It's a bit bad and up to interpretation, but based on the pictures I have and re-occurring words I was able to put something together.

When a dragon egg is place on the altar in the middle of the towers, the portal back to the overworld opens up again.

One problem.

I have no idea how to get a Rutha egg.

LOG 98

Been thinking again.

About the similarities between my powers and the void.

Why were they so similar?

I hadn't tried magic in a long while, not like in these pictures.

I mostly channeled my magic through how most people did. By enhancing physical attributes like strength and health.

And enchantments.

And potion making.

It was just a lot safer and a lot less likely to blow up in your face.

But, looking at the pictures of how people used their magic...

It makes me curious.

Maybe if I get really bored....

LOG 100!!!!!

Yay! I'm not dead yet!

I'm trying so hard to be positive.

I need to get home so bad.

I-

I'm not allowed to be sad.

There are plenty of cliffs to throw myself off of in the void, and I don't need that temptation.

So, let's look at the positive!

I get more fruit for dinner! Yummy!

LOG 105

I really just want this to be oveeerrrrrrrr

LOG 114

Another breakthrough! Found while cleaning the paintings, while Rutha is pregantey she gets purple like gill like thingies on her neck! Hurray!

Only problem was, I don't know when Rutha is going to be preganties.

....

things are looking so good for me rn

LOG 119

Come to terms with the fact that my entire survival depends on Rutha getting pregantaeee. 

Doesn't feel good.

LOG 130

I've gotten really bored. I've flown back in between the two islands, building up my wing strength. I've also found that as long as I don't get close to the towers, Rutha doesn't mind if I fly close to her.

Rutha really is a breathtaking creature.

I've been watching for her purple like gills to show up.

No luck.

But I've also started practicing weird voodoo magic like in the paintings.

It's weird.

I don't really know what I'm doing.

It's-

It's really instinctual.

No real science behind it.

Not like making potions.

Or enchanting.

It is-

It is freeing in a way.

LOG 132

I've been practicing my magic on the endermen. It's satisfying killing them. But no matter how much I kill them, there is just an endless sea of them. There's no point, in trying to get rid of them. But at least I'll never run out of practice targets.

I'm getting better at my magic. Slowly.

All there is to do is practice.

And keep checking if Rutha was preganttteeeeeyyyy.

LOG 142

Not feeling well today. Tried to do magic like I used to when I would call home to the boys. Whatever forces are in this world did not like me trying to cross communicate. I was coughing up blood for a solid hour. At least I thought it was an hour. I can't tell time down here.

LOG 149

Just practicing more magic.

Nothing else much.

Rutha isn't preganteeeies yet.

LOG 150

Can't wait to eat more fruit!

Wow!

Isn't my life just great!

LOG 160

Finally made a breakthrough in my magic!  
Was able to teleport.

Like actually teleport.

Like an endermen.

Without that cursed fruit.

Take that, stupid void.

Ur not special anymore.

Granted, I only like, went a couple feet.

And proceeded to curl up in a ball and shake as my entire body felt like it was being ripped apart.

Can't wait to try again tomorrow!

LOG 179

STOP EVERYTHING!  
tODdAY, i WAS FLYING with rUThA RIGHT?!  
AND I ThiNk-

I THINK-

MAYBE

POSSIBLY-

I SEE

LITTLE PURPLE VEINS ON HER NECK!!!  
MOMA RUTHA IS PREGGGIIEEEESSSSSS.

LOG 180

I didn't know how long a dragon preeegnacy lasts.

I hope it wasn't long.

My boys-

They must be worried sick

They all must think I'm dead.

Think I'm gone.

Just like their mum.

I-

I wonder how much time has actually passed.

It feels like years.

And days.

But maybe weeks.

Maybe I've been in here for a whole hour.

I don't know.

I can see my reflection in the glass of the paintings on the second island house, the house that I've moved into.

I don't look like I've aged.

My beard hasn't grown too bad.

So it must not be long.

It couldn't have.

So.

I guess.

My reasonable guess would have to be...

Nothing more than half a year.

Yeah.

That makes sense.

LOG 190

Rutha is still preggies.

I'm still doing magic.

Today, I was able to teleport without dying on the inside!

Wanna know how far I went?

Two feet!

Impressive, am I right?

LOG 200!!!!!

Philza stared at the blank page, not knowing what to write.

200.

200 hundred entries in his book.

It was depressing.

Philza was so anxious. Sure, you couldn't read it from the way he was writing, but everyday away from his family was just another day of heartache. Another day of suffering. He dreamed of them. He couldn't escape his loneliness. Philza was starting to wonder when he was going to lose it. When he was going to start going crazy. Maybe he was making this all up. Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was the afterlife.

The only thing that gave him joy was Rutha.

Philza was so glad she was finally pregnant. He had nearly cried when he had first noticed.

"Awww Ruthey! I'm so proud of you!" Philza had flown over her, watching her gracefully turn in the sky. "You're going to be a mother!"

Philza noticed that he had been talking out loud more often, even though there was nothing but endermen and Rutha to hear.

Philza over the past couple of whatever time increments he was using at the moment had slowly been trying to gain Rutha's trust. He would need her to trust him enough to let him move her egg, after all. He had started by placing large amounts of fruit by where she slept. But she mostly ignored that, either not trusting Philza or not wanting the fruit. 

So he tried something else.

He rolled up his sleeves, and put his magic to good use. He hadn't been able to manifest the magic in any special way other than teleporting a few feet and then promptly feeling like he was going to die, but he had enhanced his previous abilities of powering up his natural talents. After a full day of slaughtering endermen after endermen, he finally had a huge, smelly pile of corpses. To both his joy and his disgust, Rutha had flown in excited and started chowing down right in front of him, splashing him in endermen guts.

It was a fun time.

Rutha had started to trust him more and more after that, it had even gotten to the point where Philza could walk through the towers without her immediately swooping in on him.

Using his newfound freedom, he had taken to exploring what was on top of the towers.

On top of the towers there were these floating, spinning pink glass like things. Philza had no idea what they were, but when he flew close to them a white, transparent beam like thing connected from his chest to the glass floating thing. It didn't hurt or anything, and it wasn't solid either. It was more just an illusion. But it still made Philza uncomfortable. He didn't know what it was doing. So he decided to stay away from them for the time being.

Then, pressing his freedom even more, Philza had tried to go up and pet Rutha.

She didn't let him, but it was worth a shot.

But Philza had noticed... Rutha was acting a bit differently.

She was acting... more motherly.

She hovered around Philza more, watching him do his research or fly between islands. Whenever Philza flew too long, Rutha flew underneath him in case he dropped from exhaustion. And Rutha stopped eating unless she was sure that Philza had food as well.

It was cool, seeing Rutha's intelligence shine through. She was just as smart as she was dangerous.

He thought-

The other day-

That Rutha was showing off her magic to him.

Philza wanted to try to copy it. He wanted her to do it again. He was sure he wasn't just imagining things.

He wanted to learn.

Because... well...

What else was he going to do?


	15. Everything

Quackity had only wanted what was best for his country.

Everything he did was for it.

Everything he ever did.

Sure, he wasn't a part of Wilbur's little gang of four, but even if he had come late he still had a burning pride in his heart for what his nation was and what it stood for.

That's why he ran against Wilbur in a fair fight. Because he had to uphold the integrity of his nation.

Everything he's doing.

That's why he decided to lay down his pride and join Schlatt as his vice president.

Everything he's putting up with.

That's why he thought marriage with Schlatt had been a smart idea.

Quackity played with his hands, taking the long way back home around Manburg instead of going straight back to the Schlatt's house.

Schlatt had made him move in there. He didn't want to live in the Presidential House.

He walked, eyes down on the wood path in front of him, his heart racing at just the thought of going home to him. It was nighttime, but Manburg was relatively safe. Well, it definitely was safer the closer and closer he got to Schlatt's house. Tubbo- well, before Tubbo left he had made sure security was up to standards.

He couldn't believe what Schlatt had done to him.

He had stood up on the podium when it happened.

"Schlatt- isn't this- isn't this enough?" Quackity had said, away from the microphone. "We have him- we have him in the box- we can just take him to like- jail or something."

Quackity winced from phantom pains. His burn marks, beautiful, interlacing scars that had healed in patterns like the bursts of light, had just stopped hurting on a daily basis, but that didn't mean that Quackity wasn't haunted by the burning in his memory. The scar was from his ankle up to his neck, just barely visible when he wore a tee-shirt. Quackity had often taken a liking to covering it all the way up, choosing to wear bigger sweatshirts and long pants despite the heat. He didn't like them, didn't want people to see them. So he didn't let them. Quackity was good at covering up marks on his body.

Schlatt had similar scarring on his right side, from the same exact blast that had hurt him.

It was like they shared the burden.

But then why didn't Quackity feel like they did?

Quackity also hurt for other reasons, he had carefully put makeup over the bruises on his throat that morning. But Quakity didn't want to think about that. He had also had to do his skin care routine, his chronic condition acting up. Quackity's condition wasn't doing too hot lately, just adding onto his list of problems. It was all the extra stress. His skin itched, and he scratched at his arms. Schlatt hated when he scratched too bad, so bad it drew blood. Said the noise was annoying, and the blood was a bitch to clean up. But it wasn't like Quackity wanted to be like this.

When Quackity was younger, his mom had taken him to a healer.

"What do you mean, you can't heal it?" Quackity's mother spoke in Spanish. "Are you not a healer?"

"Miss, I assure you I'm doing my absolute best. But Quackity- his condition is being caused by his fae blood. If I were to try to experiment with solutions, it is very possible that something could go horrendously bad."

"What do you mean, his fae blood?" Quackity was little at the time, still sitting in his mom's lap.

"I mean, the same blood that gave him these." The doctor had reached out and pulled out Quackity's small golden wings, pulling them out to their tiny wing span. "I forget that you people have a different term for it-"

"But- it's a gift?" His mom had started to stroke his wings, calming the rising fear in his little child body. "He's- well he's been blessed by an angel."

"Yes- and no" The doctor sighed and brought out a clip board. "See, you and your husband both had genetically recessive fae blood. It just so happened that your son Alex had gotten the genetic lottery and defied the odds and inherited physical traits from it. Yes, it is a blessing, and yes, I suppose if you're religious you can see it as a gift, but more so it's a blood thing. And genetics are not perfect."

Quackity didn't know what was going on. He didn't like the doctor looking at his mom like she was stupid

"Not- not perfect?"

"Yeah. See this?" The doctor reached out and grabbed Quackity's arm, pulling up his long sleeve to reveal an irritated patch of skin that looked a sickly yellow. "I believe it is a body mishap, the blood trying to grow feathers in the wrong place and being rejected. Think of it as- well, at the best, maybe like eczema. Or, at the worst, like a hopefully non-deadly skin cancer."

Quackity's mom had lost her words. "Hopefully, non.... non deadly?"

Quackity hadn't seen his mom in a while. He'd thought multiple times a week about making trips back home, but every time Schlatt had said the same thing.

"You know how much I would love to see my -I assume absolutely stunning- in laws, but I don't know if you've noticed but we are kinda running a country right now."

Quackity had tried to explain that he alone could go down, and only be gone for a weekend.

"Don't make this hard on me- you know I can't run this job alone. And with Tubbo gone, your all I have left."

Yeah, he thought, and who's fault was that?

>{}<

Schlatt sat at home, doing paperwork.

Shocking right? Schlatt thought. Quackity was going to have a field day when he got home.

Ever since Tubbo was gone, Schlatt had started to try to pick up more of the nitty gritty work.

Who else was supposed to do it? Quackity?

He already did a lot, hence why he was out so late.

Fundy?

Na. Fundy was still practically a child. Schlatt didn't know the whole story, but he for sure knew that Fundy wasn't as old as he looked. Hell, Schlatt didn't know if the furry could read. The only reason Schlatt had placed him in a position of power was because he was Wilbur's kid.

Sure. He had other people who worked in the government. But none so high up that they could do this job. Quackity, Fundy and Tubbo were the only people who had this much clearance.

Schlatt scribbled down a line of ink, writing as neatly as he could. Urg. So annoying. Why can't people just chill?

When Schlatt won the presidency, he knew he was a guy that people weren't going to like.

He knew there was going to be resistance.

But he had decided beforehand he didn't care if they liked him, or if they saw him as a good leader.

All he needed was them to follow his word like the law of God.

And he could do that by other means then just them respecting him.

Schlatt reached to the side of the table, grabbing his drink and taking a sip.

Not too much... Schlatt thought to himself. I still need to be able to read these fucking words.

He could feel his grip slipping on his citizens.

He had thought that it was going to be enough ruling by fear.

But it seemed that he had grown something else in its place.

Resentment.

Resentment strong enough to want him dead.

Oh well. Schlatt took another swig of his drink before throwing the quill down in frustration. Maybe he'd have to look to hire a new... secretary or something. He couldn't keep doing this.

Manburg was still a small nation, with just a small central town, but people were starting to notice it and even request citizenship.

Lots of people were curious what life not under the rule of Dream was.

Schlatt had let the nation's immigration policy allow more people, but soon it was pointed out to him by Tubbo that they didn't have the resources to continue letting people just move in. So he had shut it down. Now, they only got visitors and a lot of complaints.

"Complain all you want, no freaking way I'm letting people starve just because you want to run away from Dream. Deal with him yourself-" Schlatt thinks these were his exact words he had said when he had signed the closure of the nation.

He was a good president. That was a good decision. Just maybe he could've said something more eloquently, but Schlatt didn't put up with anything he didn't want to. And he wouldn't tolerate people coming up to him and begging to let them in.

Yeah. That was a while ago. Schlatt rubbed his forehead, now people are requesting to leave.

That's what I get for being such an ass.

But they just don't realize what they have.

I'm a good president.

Hmmmm... Schlatt ran his fingers along the edge of his horns, leaning back in his chair. Maybe it was because of the public execution-

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet beeping. His security system. He had no idea how it worked, Tubbo had gotten some dude named Sam to help him set up red stone. He groaned and slammed his hand down on the mute button. It was just Alex.

Schlatt knew he was treading on thin ice with Alex. If his fuzzy memory served him right, they had had a big fight last night. Schlatt didn't know if he felt guilty about it. There was always something about Alex that could get on Schlatt's nerves. He was sure if they had fought, he would've had a good reason. Even drunk, Schlatt trusted himself to know what needed to be done.

When they had gotten married, Schlatt was okay with it. Schlatt never really thought that he was going to get married in his life, nonetheless to a guy, but to his surprise he found that he didn't really mind the thought. It was more like....

Schlatt didn't believe in love.

He didn't believe in love at first sight, true love, soulmates. There was only one thing.

Wants.

Wants for money, wants for power, wants for- Schlatt smiled to himself- something else.

And Quackity definitely had those wants.

He was younger than him, and at first he had found it a bit weird, but he had quickly gotten over it. Alex was mature for his age... well... more like had a more mature humor.

It's not like Schlatt didn't like Alex, he was surprised to find that he had actually grown fond of him. He was good company. They had the same humor. Alex had the incredible ability to bounce back really fast, something Schlatt could respect. And he wasn't too bad looking either.

Something else Schlatt had learned about Alex was that he liked to talk big talk. He liked to make jokes about the cartel, doing drugs and getting dirty. But when Schlatt had offered to do any of those things with him, in all seriousness, he immediately got cold feet. Such a wuss. Schlatt thought. But it was kind of endearing.

Schlatt realized with a sinking fear in his stomach as he stepped away from his desk and onto the couch, was that he was afraid to lose him.

Well, more like afraid to lose his control over him.

In Schlatt's mind, there was no doubt about it that Quackity was his.

It's just-

Schlatt couldn't afford to lose any more followers. If he lost Quackity, he had already decided the fight was over. That would be the tipping point for him. He would drown himself until he died of liver poisoning. Because if he lost control over Alex, then he had lost control over everything. Then nothing would matter anymore.

Because Alex was all he had left.

>{}<

Quackity had passed through security, and now stood at Schlatt's home's doors.

Even after living with him, Quackity didn't see it as their house.

It was Schlatt's house.

Quackity wondered what Schlatt he would get tonight. Angry drunk Schlatt? Maybe dazed out of his mind Schlatt. Or- what were the chances- he would get soft Schlatt?

Soft Schlatt was Quackity's favorite. It was when Schlatt was really tired and had only had maybe a sip or too before calling it quits. It was those nights that Quackity really enjoyed being home.

Quackity's hands shook as he opened to doorknob after he had scanned in at the security check.

He had almost not come back tonight.

He had people he could go to that weren't Manburg's enemies and wouldn't get him labeled as a traitor.

He was sure if he asked, Eret would have a spare room in his castle.

And Gogy always had a place for him. There must be an empty room he could stay in.

But he was worried it would've made him more mad.

Quackity had trouble breathing, remembering what happened last night.

>{}<

He had walked in later than he said he was going to be out. The extravagant and expensive room was dimly lit, the only light shining in from the hallway. The room was cold and smelled of alcohol, glass bottles on the floor. Urg. They would have to call the maid again. Quackity took a step and closed the door quietly hoping that Schlatt would've been asleep and he could just go crawl in bed with him.

"Where were you?"

Quackity's heart jumped out of his chest. Quackity had really gone for a late night fly and had gotten lost, but he wasn't going to say that. He didn't want to start a fight again- especially over the topic of how pathetic he was. He could practically hear Schlatt saying those words. Walking out farther into the room, Quackity saw Schlatt sitting upright on the couch, a pistol on the cushion beside him. His blood ran cold.

"I- I got held back late."

"Really?" Schlatt stood and crossed his arms, towering over Quackity. Schlatt's face was in shadows, his eyes reflecting the light slightly, a golden glow. Quackity, no matter how many times he was with Schlatt, couldn't get over how much of a beast he was.

"Really." Quackity tried not to let his voice shake.

Schlatt's voice was calm, but reeked of drunkenness. "Well, logs say you clocked off about two hours ago."

Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot-

"Ah-" Quackity laughed nervously, his voice getting higher. "It must've been a glitch, I very clearly only just-"

Schlatt had moved quicker than Quackity thought possible. All his talk of being decrepit and old was just that, talk. It was to lower people's defense and expectations of him. But they shouldn't underestimate him.

Because Schlatt was powerful.

Schlatt threw Quackity back against the wall, forcing him up on the wall with his forearm on his neck. His world went black for a second as his head smacked the wall hard. Quackity's feet kicked wildly as pure panic filled his entire body, his wings flapped wildly, trying to give him any breakage in Schlatt's hold. Quackity heard sounds of shattering as he thought uselessly that he might've knocked some stuff over.

Quackity couldn't think.

He-

He had never felt fear like this.

He was going to die.

Gasping for breath, he pulled with his hands at Schlatt's arm, to no avail. Schlatt leaned in close to him, his right horn brushing against his face as his hot breath whispered in his ear.

"I'm going to give you one chance to answer this."

"S- stop." Quackity managed to squeeze out.

He couldn't breathe he couldn't breath he couldn't breath-

Schlatt was going to choke him to death. 

"You motherfucking son of a bitch." Schlatt's voice growled in his ear. "Why were you in Pogtopia?"

Tears pricked his eyes. "I- I wasn't. I wasn't. I wasn't-"

Schlatt lowered Quackity down low enough that his feet could touch, and lessened the pressure on his throat.

He was going to set him down. He was going to let him live. He was going to-

But there had been a reason he was only using one hand.

Quackitys soul left his body when he felt cold metal pressed against his temple, and the click of a safety being flipped off.

Quackity prayed rapidly in his head.

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

"I thought I made it clear I was only going to ask once." Quackity closed his eyes. He couldn't see straight anymore. The gun pressed into his temple, Quackity knew this was it. "Speak."

"I-" he wheezed "I was just flying around. I got- got lost." Quackity's breathing was fast and jagged, "I would never- I didn't- please- please." Quackity switched to Spanish, his head moving too fast for English, "please don't blow my brains out I promise I promise I promise I swear on my mother I swear on my grandma I swear I swear I swear.-"

Quackity had his eyes closed, but still he felt like everything was closing in on him. His body was so cold. He was shaking.

Shaking from adrenaline

Shaking from pure terror.

Schlatt leaned in, speaking in Spanish. "Open your mouth."

Please please please please please please-

Quackity shook but did what he said, before feeling the cold metal being pressed into his mouth. 

Tears running down his eyes, he stifled a sob.

"You know what I do to traitors, right?"

The words cause Quackity's entire body to shake.

"Mhummm." He gagged, his teeth hitting the cold metal. 

"That's right. You know first hand, don't you?" Schlatts forearm strayed from his throat, not needing to press Quackity on the wall the keep him there. Schlatt reached down Quackity's hoodie, rubbing his scar on the top of Quackity's collarbone. The scar that he and Schlatt shared.

"Mmm-" Quackity hummed, trying anything to get Schlatt to not murder him. He tried not to shake, tried not to move, tried he tried he tried-

Please don't kill me please don't kill me please don't-

Schlatt stifled a laugh. "You really are a wuss."

"I need-"

Quackity's lip was bleeding from the gun's barrel cutting his lip.

"I need you to promise me something."

Quackity couldn't swallow, blood pooling in his mouth. "Mhum-hum" Quackity struggled. 

He would promise anything anything anything he wanted he didn't want to die he didn't want to die he didn't want to die-

"If you ever" Schlatt pressed the gun harder into his mouth, causing him to grunt in pain, "EVER" Quackitys jaw burned as he forced it farther down, his head hitting the back of the wall. "Betray me- do it straight to my face. None of this- double agent bull. If you want to kill me, you better grab a fucking crossbow like a fucking man and try to take a shot at me, right here. Right in the head."

"Have I made myself clear?"

"Mhum-"

Quackity was dropped, falling to the floor. He shook, gasping for breaths, almost gaging so bad he made himself vomit. Pulling his hands up to his face and holding his throbbing jaw. He hunched over, making himself small, using his wings to cover him trying to hide. Blood dripped from his open, heaving mouth. 

"Have. I. Made. Myself. Clear."

Quackity didn't see when Schlatt hit his face with the butt of the gun, but he felt the explosion in his nose and the sting as he fell on the floor, scrunching up in a protective position.

Blood splattered against the wall. 

"Y-" Quackity tried to talk between gasping breaths, struggling to breath with blood seeping down the back of his throat, "y- yes"

"Say you promise."

"I-" Quackity sobbed "I promise." I promise I promise I promise I promise I'll never I'll never I -

"What."

"I'll never be- betray you."

Quackity felt pain explode in his side as Schlatt kicked him on the ground. He coughed, his ribs screaming. 

"Wrong answer."

Gasping, reaching across the floor, Quackity desperately grabbed for anything that would help him. His hands slid over everything he touched, leaving streaks of red. 

"I promise- I- promise if I- ever be-betray y... you. I'll do it to- to your- your face."

Quackity curled up, waiting to get kicked again.

Nothing happened.

The only sounds were his whimpering breaths and Schlatt's heavy, insane breathing above him.

"Good." Schlatt said, speaking in English again. "I'm glad we understand each other."

Quackity heard Schlatt start to walk away, grabbing a bottle that was on the hallway table that Quackity's wings had almost knocked over.

"Tonight's the night. I'm going to bed. You either come in there like a good little husband, suck up your wounds and sleep with me, or you walk in there and blow my head off. Make up your mind before you wake me up."

Quackity didn't respond, hugging his knees as close to his body as he could.

He heard Schlatt mumble as he walked off. "Stupid bitch." His feet echoed down the hall. "Fucking weak good for nothing flatty patty."

>{}<

Quackity could feel his heartbeat rising. His throat ached, his jaw ached, his ribs ached. All day, every person he saw he just wanted to run up to them screaming help me- but he couldn't. He couldn't leave.

He had seen so many people who could have helped him that day.

Yet he had said nothing.

He had covered up his bruises. 

He had covered up his pain. 

He had went back in bed with Schlatt.

He wasn't strong enough to kill Schlatt.

"Are you just going to stand at the door or what?"

Quackity flinched as Jschlatt opened the door, standing in front of him. The same person who had pressed a gun down his throat was standing not two feet in front of him, smiling at him.

"You must've had a long day today. Thanks for texting me that you were going to be late."

Quackity shuddered, but tried to hide it. "Yeah- yeah. No problem." His voice was higher than normal.

Schlatt stepped to the side, allowing Quackity to step in. He closed the door behind him, immediately making Quackity feel trapped.

He needed to get out he needed to get out-

"Why don't you take a seat. I waited to eat dinner with you."

Quackitys entire body screamed.

This was a trap this was a trap this was a trap-

"I fixed up the mess." Schlatts voice behind him made him jump, and he tensed up as Schlatt put one of his strong hands into the center of his back, pushing him forward.

"There was quite a bit of broken stuff. The maid had taken care of most of it, but there was still a couple things I needed to fix. I don't remember all that much from last night, I've" He laughed " I've quite honestly have been recovering from a massive hangover. But I do remember that we fought. And I specifically remember that you said that if you'd ever betray me, you'd do it to my face." When Quackity didn't respond, he continued. "So, I figured I do this as thanks, seeing how you haven't killed me yet."

Quackity's breath shook as he was led into their grand dining hall and huge table, two plates with chairs across from each other set up with massive plates of food at the end.

It was a trap it was a trap it was a trap.

"Thank- thank you."

"Let me- let me just go clean up a bit. I need to take off my shoes and wash my hands."

"Alright, baby." Schlatt said in Spanish. 

It took all of Quackity's willpower to not run to the bathroom. 

And when he got in there-

He absolutely shut down.

He leaned against the wall, tears in his eyes, trying not to make any noise as he slide down to the floor.

No no no no no nononononono-

If Schlatt was being for real-

Quackity didn't know if this was a good thing or bad thing. If it was for real, he definitely got soft Schlatt and was going to be hopefully safe for the rest of the night. If he had gotten angry Schlatt that was waiting for him to mess up... Quackity could feel the cold shadow of doom over his head.

He couldn't do this he couldn't do this he couldn't do this-

Quackity's head throbbed. He hugged himself close, wrapping his wings around him.

He felt all his pain, all his injuries at once. He felt Schlatt's breath in his ear. He heard what he had said.

"Open your mouth."

No.

Please not again.

He could never do that again.

Quackity would do anything to never have to go through that again. 

Quackity sat down, trying to calm down. He needed- he needed-

He crawled across the floor, pulling himself up halfway and reaching over to turn on the faucet. 

Schlatt was expecting him. 

He needed to calm down. 

Quackity looked in the mirror, at himself. 

He didn't recognize himself.

The fear in his eyes.

Quakity looked down.

Splashed water on his face.

He- he

He looked good enough to go back out there. 

He thought about texting for back up.

Maybe leaving Gogy a message.

Something like-

Hey, if I don't text you tomorrow, come look for my body. 

But he couldn't.

Quackity finished washing his hands, taking shuddering breaths. 

He opened to door.

>{}<

Schlatt was already seated at the dining table when Quackity walked in. 

Quackity couldn't look at Schlatt, instead trying his best to walk around him to the dinning room. But Schlatt got up from his chair. 

Stay away stay away please stay away

Quackity flinched as Schlatt walked closer to him. He was screaming in his head. He needed to run.

"Hey, can I get your chair for you?" 

Quackity didn't think he heard him right. 

"Uh-" He stumbled, "Yeah. Thank you."

"No problem, Alex." Schlatt walked behind him and whispered in his ear, causing intense ptsd from last night to make Quackity's throat close off.

He could feel the pounding in his head again. 

Quackity forced himself to move, walking with Schlatt to his spot. Quackity couldn't look at Schlatt's face as he pulled out his chair for him. Hands shaking, Quackity sat down, Schlatt going and taking his place opposite of him. 

He couldn't eat, so he picked up his fork gingerly and pretended to be really interested in his food.

"So, do you want to tell me about your day?" Schlatts words were like knives being shoved down his throat. Quackity could still feel his throbbing jaw and the cut on his lip.

"Well- I was more interested in your day." Quackity turned the conversation away from him.

"Well," Schlatt sat back, leaning confidently like he owned the place or something, "I recovered from my hangover around like- 3 pm. Since then I've been doing paperwork."

Quackity knew this was a trap. "Paperwork?"

Schlatt laughed. "Yeah. Knew you'd be surprised at that one. Figured you'd have enough on your mind after our fight last night that I would try to lessen your load a bit."

Quackity couldn't believe it.

Taking a risk, he tried a joke. "It isn't relieving my workload if I- I have to go redo it when I see you were drunk out of your mind and all the writing is just gibberish nonsense." He laughed awkwardly.

"Na, Alex." Schlatt used his real name for the second time. "I've been sober all night. Figured it was the least I could do."

Quackity was in shock. He looked at Schlatt's cup, realizing that the clear liquid in it might actually be water and not vodka.

Is this what a health relationship is like?

Is this what his life could be like?

If he just-

If he just did everything Schlatt wanted?

If he never did anything wrong?

If Quackity-

If Quackity never messed up?

Schlatt grumbled something, standing up. Quackity freaked out. It was too good to last. But then he heard what Schlatt was saying.

"Too far away from you- I'm moving closer."

Schlatt picked up his plate and moved it to the seat right next to Quackity. He froze, as if any movement was going to result in another incident like last night. With a clank, he set his glass cup of water down and slid into the seat right next to Quackity.

"You look so tense."

Schlatt was playing dumb. He had to be.

"Yeah- it was a tough day at work." Quackity lied.

"That's too bad." Schlatt reached over, almost causing Quackity to flinch as he set his arm right in the spot between his two wings. "I was hoping to loosen you up tonight."

Quackity held his breath, as Schlatt started to play with his wings, stroking his feather softly. "But if you don't want to do that, maybe we could just watch one of those crappy soap operas you like."

"Yeah- yeah that sounds good." Quackity tried to breathe.

"Alrighty." He said, giving one last rub on his back. Quackity hated it, but he had to admit Schlatt's strong hands were good for massages. But it was kind of hard to enjoy it though when Quackity envisioned that same hand snaking up his back and grabbing him by his neck. "Make sure you eat up. You must be hungry."

"Y-yeah." Quackity forced a smile, grabbing his fork.

He hated this.

It-

It had to be a trap.

Because it felt like a dream.

This is the Schlatt he thought he was marrying.

The Schlatt he thought was going to rule L'Manburg with. 

The Schlatt Quackity had risked everything for.

This was soft Schlatt. Quackity didn't want this to go away. But he didn't want it to be a trick. He didn't want to feel the terror that he felt last night. He could still feel the gun in his mouth, being shoved down his throat, scrapping the roof of his mouth as he was forced to promise that promise to Schlatt between gulps of air.

He wanted it to stay like this.

If this was how Schlatt treated him when he was a... "good husband"...

Was Quackity really that bad?

Was it all his fault?

"You're shivering so god dang much. Let me grab you a blanket." Schlatt stood up from the table, Quackity pulling into himself and making himself smaller.

Did he deserve it?

"Be right back."

Those words didn't sit well with Quackity.

He wanted him to be back.

This him.

But he was afraid that the next time Schlatt returned, it would be the same Schlatt who threatened to kill him.

And Quackity knew next time, the next time he failed to make Schlatt happy, there would be no more promises. Schlatt wouldn't hesitate.

He wouldn't hesitate.


	16. Anchor

It had been raining all morning.

Tubbo had just finished border control with Eret, walking around the black walls that they had built around their land. They were both soaking wet, their uniforms cold and sticky all the way down to their underclothes. Tubbo normally had a good time; Eret was good company. But enough was enough, he was freezing and shaking. Hopefully they could find Tommy to take over for a little bit. He did not want to catch a cold, and Eret agreed. 

Walking down from the tower, laughing at a joke that Eret had made, Tubbo noticed something wrong. Across the river, by the Camar van, Wilbur sat on the front steps head in hands. 

Something was wrong.

Water ran through his wet hair, dripping in front of his face. He could be sitting inside, yet he sat out on the van step.

Something was really wrong.

Eret noticed it too. He had picked up his pace, making Tubbo jog to keep up with his long legs.

Where was Tommy, thought Tubbo. If anything happened to-

They crossed the river, getting close enough for Wilbur to notice. He raised his head slowly, his face red and tears in his eyes.

He had been crying.

No. Not Tommy-

Standing up, Wilbur looked away from them, making sure they couldn't see his face.

"Wilbur!" Eret's strong and steady voice was a comfort to Tubbo's racing heart. "What is it?"

Wilbur couldn't look at him. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned against the van, putting his head in his hands.

Tubbo didn't hesitate. He just went up and hugged him, both of them soaking wet. He felt Wilbur deflate in his arms, despite Tubbo being so much smaller than him. It scared Tubbo. He needed to know.

"Tommy?" His voice cracked.

Wilbur hugged Tubbo back. "No-" He choked, "No- Tommy's good. Tommy's good. It's me."

Eret placed his hand on Wilbur's shoulder as Tubbo pulled away.

Tubbo felt guilty for feeling so happy. Wilbur was in pain, but he couldn't help the joy of Tommy being safe.

The three of them stood inside the border's walls, shaking in the cold. The grey sky threatened to darken, thunder rolling in the distance.

"Hey man, it's okay." Eret looked down at him just a tad. "You can tell us what it is."

"I-" Wilbur started, before biting his lip. "I need to take a walk." Wilbur stood up straight and pushed through Eret, pausing for a second to clasp his hand. Tubbo was so confused about what was going on. 

He was so scared.

They watched Wilbur walk away.

Tubbo couldn't move.

What was going on.

"What is this?" Eret softly spoke behind him.

Tubbo looked at him, realizing that Wilbur had put something in Eret's hand when he had walked away. Curious, he tried to see what he was holding.

It looked... it looked official.

"What does it say?" Tubbo asked, leaning on his arm.

"Here, I'll read it to you." Eret lowered his voice. "Let's just go inside the van."

"Al- alright." Tubbo was was shivering. The warm van sounded nice, but he looked off to where Wiblur had walked. He couldn't see him anymore, the dark sky and heavy rain lowering his vision distance. Pain twisted in his gut. 

Wilbur-

What was wrong?

>{}<

Inside, Eret closed the door behind them, and they sat in the front seats on top of towels, as to not get the seats soaking wet. They had the hot air on, the nice warmth keeping Tubbo from completely losing it. Eret shook of the paper gently, water droplets falling from it. Curiously, Tubbo wondered why the paper was water proof.

"So, what does it say?" Tubbo pulled his feet into a crisscross position.

Eret cleared his throat. "It starts, 'By Decree of the Northwest clan of the Sea of Aviseau.'"

"What?" Tubbo tilted his head.

"Um-" Eret said. "I think- I think that they are like the mer-folk."

"But why?" Tubbo scooted closer. "Is Wilbur in trouble?"

"I don't know. Uh- it says 'in regards to-'" Eret stopped. "I can't say that word. It's like, all in another language and stuff."

"Oh. Cool."

"Well, in regards to -blank-, it has been brought to our attention that you may not know of what has been happening. -Blank-, a mer-folk who has claimed to have had an alleged past relationship with you can no longer care for her child."

Tubbo and Eret both stopped and stared.

"What?" Tubbo managed to say.

Eret looked up, dumbfounded. "I- I don't know that's just what it says."

"Keep reading!"

"Uh- she can no longer care for her child. -Blank- has been admitted into our asylums, and instead of the child going into the child care system, it has been ruled that the child is more fae than mer-folk, therefore will be admitted into your care, and your decision on what to do with it. Details of arrival and the child's well being will be on later pages." Eret held up the single page, looking for more, but it seemed Wilbur had ripped those off and had carried them off with him.

Eret's hands shook. Tubbo and him sat in the front of the van, not believing what he was hearing.

"More- more fae then mer-folk?" Tubbo whispered.

"That's- that's what it said."

"Eret." Tubbo looked forward, trying to process it. "What does this mean?"

"Oh God." Eret leaned against the steering wheel, "Uh- it means that we will be needing to add an extra room in the Camar van."

Tubbo frowned, "But isn't that unfair?"

"What?"

"Unfair!" Tubbo exclaimed, "Wilbur- Wilbur is in the middle of declaring his own nation. Nowhere does it say that they evaluated the current situation that he was in! We could be going to war any day! Wilbur- We aren't ready for this."

Eret didn't respond, instead stared out the window.

"You're- you're really smart Tubbo."

"Eret, what are we going to do?"

"We... we make sure that Wilbur is doing okay."

"I'll- yeah. Yeah." Tubbo started to get up from his chair.

"Wait-" Eret put a hand out and stopped him from getting up. "I'll go alone. I'll talk to him myself. It might be to hard-"

Tubbo stared at him, wide eyes. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to help. "What should I do then?"

"Uhhhh," Eret put both hands on his head, thinking, "Go find Tommy. Just- just be with Tommy okay? Can you do that?"

Tubo frowned, but nodded his head. "Yeah. I can."

"Alrighty. I'll be back."

>{}<

Eret spent a long while looking for Wilbur. He looked all through L'Manburg, but eventually reached the conclusion that he wasn't there. Soaking wet, water falling into his eyes, Eret struggled with climbing up the muddy hill right outside of L'Manburg. At the top of the hill, you could see the entire landscape below. Eret would know, Wilbur had taken him up there before. So, if Wilbur wasn't there, Eret didn't know what he'd do.

Luckily for him, he didn't have that problem.

He walked up the back of the hill, coming up on the back of Wilbur as he sat dangerously close to the side of the cliff. He was hunched over, like you could visibly see the weight that had just been put on his shoulders. When Eret walked up to him, he saw that he had his head in his hands, and the rest of the papers on the ground next to him.

"Hey." Eret tried.

Wilbur didn't respond. Lighting struck in the distance.

Eret went and picked up the papers, moving them as he took a seat by Will. Even though he was starting to shake, Eret pulled off his coat and held it over Will's head.

Wilbur didn't look at him, but did take the other side of the coat, making a makeshift umbrella.

Eret didn't know how to help him.

Didn't know what to say.

So he just waited.

Waited for him to talk.

Rain poured on the landscape, the black clouds rolling in from the west.

It was if Wilbur wanted to get hypothermia.

Like he didn't care.

But Eret didn't know what to do.

So he figured they'd get hypothermia together.

"I-" Eret looked up as Wilbur spoke for the first time in the couple minutes they had been sitting there. "I read through the rest of the papers."

Eret let him continue.

"I- I never did anything with her." Eret's throat tightened. He was so scared where this was going. "She was a scientist. Did genetic testing." Wilbur looked up for the first time, looking forward into the distance. "Used my fucking blood."

"So... the child...?" Eret looked forward as well, looking at their nation. "Isn't yours?"

"No." Wilbur said. "No. Yes.-" He put his head back down into his hands, letting out a noise of frustration. "I don't know. All I know is that they are putting her in my care."

Eret tried to calmly put a hand on his shoulder, water droplets sticking to his eyelashes. "Her?"

Wilbur laughed, hysterically. "You want to know what's the worst part?"

Eret clenched his jaw.

"They made it so clear-" Wilbur stopped, throwing his hands with an exasperated sigh of disbelief and confusion, "That they didn't care what I did with the child. Reading between the lines, it basically spells out that I could murder this child, and because it wasn't mer they wouldn't care." Wilbur's voice clenched up. "How messed up is that?"

"That's-" Eret tried to digest what he was saying, "That's pretty messed up."

Wilbur laughed, trying to cope with the situation. "Yeah." He gently pounded his fist against his forehead. "Yeah it is."

Wilbur turned and looked at Eret, and it broke Eret's heart to see his friend like this.

"What- what do I do?"

Eret had been asked that question already. Asked by Tubbo.

Eret didn't know.

"Well..." Eret softly rubbed his friends back, "You didn't ask for this. You didn't even have responsibility. We are almost in the middle of a war. Technically speaking, the child technically isn't yours."

Wilbur rubbed his eyes. "Yeah?"

"But... we don't know this child. Maybe... maybe you should meet it first before we make a decision. Then..." Eret noticed Wilbur tense up, "Then we can bring him into the Dream Lands, find her a good home."

Wilbur smiled sadly. "You make it sound so easy."

"What's still hard for you? Let me talk you through it. Talk to me. Please."

"Yeah. Yeah." Wilbur sniffed, "You know... you know all of us are orphans." 

Eret sat in silence. 

Wilbur's lip quivered a bit. "Me. Tommy. Tubbo. We all spent a good part of our life without parents... I- I don't want.... If I can change it.... I would like to save another child from the same fate."

"Makes sense." Eret tried to be an anchor for Wilbur, giving him a comforting presence he could latch on. He was so glad he hadn't let Tubbo follow him. Wilbur probably didn't want to boys seeing him like this. 

Wilbur sat quiet, and both of them sat in the rain a bit more, thunder now booming regularly and lightning crashed a bit too close for comfort.

"I-I don't know what I-"

Eret pulled Will in closer to him, letting him lean his head on his shoulder. He was shaking so bad.

Eret sat, trying to comfort him.

He was trying his best.

"We are going to get hypothermia." Eret whispered, barely audible under the pouring rain.

Wilbur laughed one of his soft hysteric laughs he liked to do when he was freaking out. "You can go back to the van. I'm sorry I've kept you out here."

"No. I said WE are going to get hypothermia. Either you are coming back to the van with me, or we are going to both freeze to death."

"Eret-"

"No. I'm not leaving you alone. Who knows, maybe you'll actually freeze to death. Maybe you'll trip and fall off the cliff. Maybe a random monster will come pick you off. We don't have our walls protecting us anymore." Eret put a hand on Wilbur's lap. "I am not leaving our nation's leader up here while I can help him."

Wilbur couldn't look at Eret. "Th- Thanks."

"No problem."

They sat a bit longer, until lightning struck in the forest behind them, shocking the air around them.

Eret and Wilbur both looked at each other at the same time.

"Time to go?" Eret's voice raised.

"Time to go." Wilbur scrambled up, Eret following.

Together, they ran into the forest, going for safety.

Together, they would figure this problem out.

Because as long as they had each other they didn't have to face any problem hopeless.


	17. Icescapes

Technoblade sat in his ice fortress, watching the idiots approach his base thinking they were going to sneak up on him.

Little did they know, Techno was the god of this land.

Technoblade had done tons of things in preparation of trying to take the number one spot in adventuring. But, the more he looked into things, the more he realized what he could be doing.

Some things, like the big three tournaments, (Overall warrior, overall magic fighter, and overall adventurer) were things that people took into serious consideration, looking at all achievements such as things that happened outside of the competition and things that happened in the deadly tournaments in the arena.

And when he said deadly, he meant deadly. 

So while Technoblade had been wracking up major adventurer points by exploring the Arctic, he was also preparing for the huge arena tournament that happens every five years. Too bad they had missed the first tournament. It'd be another four years until either Dream or Technoblade could officially claim the spot of first place adventurer.

But the scouting prospects had put them tied for first as their future prediction.

Technoblade didn't know how the public was reacting- he was very much isolated in a very dangerous place. But he definitely knew that the media would push this story so hard. Everyone loves to see two children go head to head trying to kill each other. It was quality entertainment.

But yeah. As well as trying to place first for the adventurer title, he was also preparing for a lot of small obscure things that most people overlooked. And by most people he meant the press. These small tournaments were the types that only had a top ten winners instead of the top 50 like the big main three games had, and in turn not many people tried out for them. There were things a bit more popular like archery, or enchanting, (a position that his father had held seventh in for the entire time he was alive) but then again there were things really obscure like map making and farming.

One of the things he was trying hard to qualify for was a category called specified magic, which was a load easier to qualify in than trying to get in the big overarching magic combat tournament.

Magic could be broken down into types... well, people tried to break them down into types. In actuality, a person could span over several different types and not even fit into one singular category. But for the sake of the tournament, you just went into the one that was closest to your style.

Technoblade's natural magical alignment was definitely a brute/nature base. Something very generic and common, but if done right was a versatile tool that could be used in practically any situation.

Then why was he in an ice castle, using ice magic, worshiping the ice gods? You may ask.

Well, for one point it was way easier to score high in the ice category than any fighting type or nature magic. Those types came a dime a dozen. Ice was much more unique and specialized, and stood out a lot more. And had a lot less competition.

Two, in specified magic you didn't have to do any dangerous combat. In the end, the top three have a three way duel, but you can pull out at any time. The big magical combat tournament you had to be physically unable to continue and the judges call the end. People have actually died during the fights. But for specified magic, it was just the ending combat and a lot of magical tasks, puzzles, and tests that are seen as sort of a opener for the more exciting fights to the deaths. It was the kind of thing that parents would take their kids to see, then leave once the real fighting began. 

Three, it had been kinda forced upon him. He had entered the ice castle, drawn in by the magical aura and power radiating from this area, and immediately had something very strange happen to him, something that was a story for another time. Long story short, he ended up with a spirit latched onto him, giving him nearly invincible powers in the icy tundra, with the small catch that the spirit had to stay latched to him and he had to stay inside the fortress.

Did he mention the spirit was doing their best to take over his body? Because it was doing it's very best, and Techno had to keep his guard up at all times. 

It was kind of annoying, Technoblade knew he couldn't keep this up forever. Eventually he would need to actually leave before his body became just a vessel for the ancient power. But for now, he was using this time he had with the parasite to gain something back from it as well. The knowledge of how to use ice magic without killing himself.

Because of the parasite, Technoblade could practically control everything within a good sized radius around his ice fortress. That's why it was easy to scoff at the idiots who were attempting to walk to his front doors.

Technoblade sat in the ancient throne room surrounded by statues of long forgotten ice gods. Closing his eyes, he tapped into the ice spirit that was leeching off of his soul.

Ĝ̴̢̢̡̡̤͎̣̟̻̜̘̰̩̻̈o̶͉̻̝̞͇̜̰̍͋̈̈́̈́̈̅͐̑̒̋̎̌̔ͅͅǫ̶̧̨̢̛͖̩͙͕̹̫̹̥̤̓̾̓͐̈͋̆̏̈̒̒̑͘̚d̶̫̬̓̏̈̂͂̾͌̈͘ͅă̵͙͙͔̝̗͗̉̓̓̐͌̉̈́̌͋̃͑y̴̧̢͕̮͙̺͇͔̻̮͇̦̻̔̅̎̕͜͝͠,̶͚͎͚̥͍̲̊͒ ̸̡̹͕̪̖̫̺̹̘̥͚̒t̷̨̛͈͍͉̮͇̰͖̙̲̼̹̬͌͆̓̏͘͠ͅͅe̷̢̧̘̝̙̘̭̝͙̟͇̲̞̼͐̾ͅr̸͇͓̙̻̠͖̘͑r̵̛̤̼̞͍̬̰̮̓̄͛̾̄̊͂́͐̚͘̚͠i̷͕̞̳̹͎͓̰̘̾̎̎͛͑͌̈̓̉͂̐̽͊̐͜ͅb̸̖͍͂͗̃̂̀̾̃͘l̷̝͉̑̈́͌̏͒͂̈͗̊̚̚̚ẻ̵̜̘̫̙͚͔̘̣͔͎̘̦͒̀͛̉͋̾͝ ̷̧̯̩͎̮̳̳̯͚̮͐͊̎̋̍̀͆͂͆͂̃̆͠͝ͅḅ̷̡̨̛͕̮̯̯̞̞̰̥͔̯̯̊̍͑̋ͅe̸̫̊͐́͝a̶̩͗͐̆̃͝s̵͉̃t̴̨̨̤̪̫̼̻̞̣͚͉̹̝̥̀̑̈́̒̄́͆͒̕ ̷̭̹̠͈͌̅̋̿̇͜͠o̸̧͎̰̬͔͓̼̺̗̎̓f̴̨̘͚͈̻̝̯͇̟̜̽̈́̈͊̚ͅ ̶̨͈̮̤̯̲̱̙͚̗̐̅͛͌̑͋̆̾̋͐̚͘͝ͅt̶̡͈̲̮̮̞͈̘͂͋́̏͜h̶̡̘̻͚̰̘̩̦͔͑̉͘͘e̸̯̼̯̣̩͎͙̭̪̲̅͠ͅ ̴̢̨̛̫͍̞̞̳̤̯̹̖̼̳̈́̃̔͂̇͋̓̋̄͊̕̚͝ḅ̴̫̪͍͓̯̣͇͐͛͑̎͌̾̂͂l̸̡͉͉̥͔̺̿̅ą̶̧̭̝̙̯̹̘͗͜d̵̛̟̺̗̹̠̫̪͉͔͍̈́̒͛̾͂̂̒̎̌͝͝e̴̢̻͛̽̋͆.̴̢͈͍͖͚̠̭̪̺̈̒͐͜͝ ̷̰̣̗̩͚͕̪͎̻̜̋̍͌͗́͊́̈́͗̓̔̎H̶̨̒͑̆̓̃͆̈́̉̇͠o̷̧̤̠̯͉͎̐̄̌͋́̒̆͂̐͜w̶̱̜͈̤̙̘̞̱̮͍͆̎̓ͅͅ ̶̨̨̠̖̤̞̩͎̙̬͓̜̞̩̎́̎̓̽̅̂̋͘m̴̱̮̟̈́̽̈́̊̑͗̍͆͗̄̀͝ā̸̪͉̻͔̻̰ÿ̵̪̲̦̳͚͕̬̣̈́͆̈̂̄͂̏̕͠ ̴̛̬͉͖̞͕̳̌͆͆̄I̴̡̻͙̖̠̙̖̺̜̭͋̓̏̽̎̒̍̉̍͊̇̂ͅ ̶̗̣͈͚̘̋̏̓̅̂͊͐ḅ̸͓͉̝͙̻͕͒͋̿̂̍̏͆͛̒̿̔͘̚ẽ̴̛̘͒̍̌̚͠ ̸̧̼̲͚̺̖̐̐́́̑o̸̧̫̠͇̺͍̘̘̲̼̥̫̥̭͍͛͑̆̌f̷͙̗̳͕͓̦̺̪̠͎̃̍̓̈̔͑̓͠ͅ ̸͎̹͍̗̟̯̞̯̤̗̬̒͊̉͋̏̽̑̂̇̃͊̉̚̕s̵̢͇̺̼̼̮̜̪̦͎̋͌͒̾̈́͂̍̂͊͑̐͆͘ę̷͕̩̏͑͆̀̌̔̾̅͛͘r̷̢̧̟̺̜̩̰̓̅͛́͊̋̏̈́ṿ̴̢̈́̂i̴̧̨̝̬̱̮̭̾̆̑̎̋̍͝͠ͅç̷̛̯͉̦̂̈́̓̾̅̒̈́̿̂̈́̂ͅe̶̢̱̬͎͔̻̟̯̬͉̬̥̥͛̈́̐̅ ̸̺̭̪͈̝̫̥͙͕̥͓̄̄́ͅt̸̺͕̔ŏ̴̡̞͔͎̺̹̃̇ ̵̰̯̞̪͕̞̭̞͂̈͐̓͘ͅỵ̶̨̛̳̪̞͎͈͇̥̝͇͔̓̄̈́̿͌̈́͂̓͗͗͝o̶̧̡̫̞̘̮͚̹̳̭̝͎̯̮̝̾̎ū̶̧̨̺̞̹͕̝̪́̍̈́͒̑̇̍̔̈́

Technoblade tried not to react to the horrible ear splitting garbles. The spirit was constantly messing with him, it's warped voice screeching like a banshee inside his head. The worst was when it just constantly screamed bloody murder. It was trying to get him to slip, to let it take control of its body permanently. But Technoblade was having none of it's bull. Plus, he liked when it got annoyed when it couldn't read his thoughts. For some reason, Techno had a really good internal poker face.

Hellooo~ It's me. Techno answered it.

Y̵͍̖̘̲̰̊̐̾̌͛̈́̽̅͑̕͠͝͝e̶̬̣̪̜̹̳̘͌͐̇͐́̕ͅs̷̛̰͆͊̈̓.̸͈̹̬̰̬̜̻͆̊͑͒̒̓̈́̐͜͝͠ͅ ̵̥͙̳͍̹̗̆̇͘͘͠Î̶̢̗͚̮̼̟͈̆̊͋͝ ̴̨̗͔̞̈́k̶̙̬̝̟͖̭̺̈́̃̈͗͒̅͝n̵̛̬̙̣̝̣͗̓͑̇̽͑͂͐͂͒͆͝ő̶̩̰̻͚̝̘̠͉̮̰̭͚̮̹̓̒ŵ̶̢̧͕̻̖̦̝͓̞̥̬̖͍ ̴̡̛̲̪̖̭̹̯̯̦̑̏̈́̃̿̊͒͌̈́̒̔͝i̷̭͂̇͆̾̈́̃͂̔͆̊͋͘̕t̷̡̨̫̜̮̦̺̞͐̑͌͑͌̃͘͜'̵̢̛̾͝ş̴̧̧̺̳̠̫̪̺̙̫͇͋̉̑́͒̍̚͜͠ ̴̡̪͔̥̮͖̭̞͉͈̟̟̝̓͊̈̌͂̎̾̔̄̾̍͊̚͝ͅͅy̸̡̨̧̮̠̟͉̱̖͚̝̝͚̣̦͐o̴̭̳̝̦͉̎͑̀͋͋u̴͎̠̪͍͔͓̿͝.̴̧͙̘͙͈̼̲̊̽͌̍͊͊͐̉̔̈́̆̊̚͝ ̸̠̗̞͕͖̲͕͉̪̒̍͠Î̴̖̺͕͈̝͕̺̓̉̾̎̈́͆͌͑̕̕͘͜t̴̯̱̠̩̯̜̹͓̣̮̜͇̎͑̂̔̓̂̃̒̚'̷̢̡̡̛͇̲͓̣͓̬̽̽̃̔̉̐̂̓͜s̵̡̢͍̟͇̟̯̘͍͓̲̆͠͠ ̴̖̉͌̌͑͛̇̌̕ḁ̴̢̬̙̰͔̮̘̗̲̹̳͒͆̓̚̕l̴̨̧̛͔̻̹̺̬̟̞͈̖̜͂̍͊͐̒͂̇̈́̒͋ẅ̶̢̹̙͖̈́̚a̶͈̠͔̫̘̞͗͒͋̓̽͂͋̒̐̐̈́͑̽͠͠y̷̢͇͚̯̪͙̋̑̿̃͒̑͐͊̚̚͜s̷͎̥̘͒̄̈́͑̃̈̀ͅ ̶̛͍͉͚̼̫̺̹̲̦̝̥̪͔͆͒̅̌̚̕y̵̻͕̯͂͆ͅő̷̢̠̻̜̤͉͉̩̭͉̳̣͖̔͊̔̀͑͐̄̚͜u̶̘̜̗̝͔͍̗̰̝͇̬̤̟͗͜͜.̴̜̱̘̥̩̻̠͖̕ ̷̛̰̻̻̥̙̗͎̣̻̫̰͒́̃͐̆̏̈̄͒̓͑̐̉͘Ȋ̶̢̗̰͚̬͙̯̠̠̬̟̞̬͛̒̿̎͌̈́̌̉͛͆̈̑͘͜͠t̷̡̘͎̥̤̹͉͗'̷̻͋s̷͕̞̩͕̟̰̺̪̏̈́̈́̿̈́͒̏̋̍͘̚̚ ̸͖͕̯̟̱̦̝͇̱̳̻͒̂̔́̂̇̊̓͝ͅṋ̴̢͍͕̘̟̳̜̕e̸̡̧͖̙͆͊͋̑͑̆̕v̴̢̼̖͓͓̞̲̦̯͙̏͊ȩ̷͉̩̳̱̤̜̪͉̤̎̉̔͊̑̉̾̄̎̽̀̒̃̚͠ṟ̶̖̥̦͍̮̰̊̄̑͊̚ͅ ̵̟̭̠͇͇̠͆̄̎̐͑̅̏͐́̽̕̚n̸̡̜̩̳͕̿̑̇o̶̧̥̖͔͚͎̅̈̽͜͝ṱ̷͉͕͉̣͓̮͐͜ ̶̙̦̪͒͗͂͋̿̎̿̓̚͠͝y̷̢̛̜̺͕̋̽̓͋͌̿̓͠ǫ̵̺̗̥̫̙̳̱͖̲̝̩̬͈̲̒̐̉̽͑̋̑̋̃͑͋̎͝ǘ̴̢̼͔̤͔̜̺̦͖͈͎͎͂͊̃̊̿̔.̸̡͔̺̪͎̖̜̪̟͙̺̝͈͌̀͋͑̉͆ ̶̛̳͉͊͗̈́͐̋̅͋̀̉̆̿̕̚͝I̴̝͓͈͍̽̅̏̾͌̚͝ẗ̴̫͉͘ ̴̠̲̠̣̰̼̟̾̓̑͌̌̃̆̐̍́̕͝ḉ̸͇̬͍̲̲a̸̧̻͇̬͖͎͚̰͕͠n̶̢̳͓̙̠͉̦̠͍̱͔̼͖̥̅͋̅̓́̈́͌̑́̕͜͝ ̶̢̛̺͖̪̬̰̩̓̐̔̈̅̾͆̓̊̒n̶̛̩̂̈̈́̑͑̇̈͂̌̚͝ė̶̢͕̥̦͙͈͈̫͜v̷̘̀̈́͆̓̊̾̎́͜ͅę̸͚͍̐r̷̨̢̢͇͉̝̞͎̥̈̽̾̃̾͜͠ͅ ̴̡̫̙͕̫̖̯̳̳͔̹̟̩̍͊̑͋̿́̔̾͒͘͝ň̶͎̿͌̍̌͐̄̈́̿͘͝o̵̢̩̖̪͔̟̟͋̾̑̊̽̄̓̈́͆͆̕̕͠͝͝t̸̡̡̨̺̙̖̲͍̃̑̄̓͛́̇̊̾͂͝ ̶̡̡̖͇̺̥̗̊b̷̢̟̪̰̬̳̹̹̖͙̟̠͂̔͐̐̒̅̓̍̆̈̑̀̈́̔̚ẽ̷̡̡̡̟͚͔͔ͅͅ ̸͉̱̩̥̻̪̘͚̣̦̰̂͊́̇̆͘͝y̸̦̣̞̖͙̲̤͈̤̩̙̥̆̐̿̚ȏ̸̧̨̩̯͍͎͎͖͎̤̜͙̤̘̋͑̉͒̂̏̽̊̈́̎̕͠ͅų̸̛̫̰̰̳̭͕͍̭̯͚͖̇̄ͅ.̸͙̻͇͛̋̈́̎ͅ

Technoblade sighed, the screeching already getting to his sensitive ears. Is today going to be a day when I have to drag you and your power through each individual instruction, or will you just read my intentions like a good evil spirit and do what I will.

Ȉ̴̧̤̻͜͜-̶̲͚͙̈́̽ ̷̮͇͓͉͉́̽͊I̷̘̮̽̅̏͝ ̴͕͇̙̼͌̔ǵ̸̡̲̐ṟ̵͇̦͙̭̊ő̵͔͖͗̌w̸̗͆̇͋̎ ̴̛̹͕t̸͙͉͙͆́i̷͔̓r̵̨̧̖̳̼͋̏͐̅ȩ̴̨̤͋d̵̮̜̮̅̓̐̍̎ ̴̦̗͂̿̈o̴̰̳̞͚̻̎͗̈́̏͌f̸̱͔̩͋̎͑̓ ̸̝͇͕͉̍̌͜ț̴̡̝̼̈́͐h̴̝̅̏͒e̵̲͉̹̫͛̃͘s̴̱̫̣̎͆̔̔̚ę̷̲͍̩̾́̔͠ ̶͍̑͛̆͊͝ģ̷̨͋͋̕̚â̴̜͓͚̹͖̄́̏̈́m̵̹͙̮̾̋͗̅̚è̵̖͍͓͇s̵̙̗̯͗̿͋̈́͘

Do you now? Technoblade smirked. If that's so, you can just leave. 

Ḧ̵̡̤̯̳̥̔́͝m̸̘̈p̶̢̤̫͈̠̐̌͝ẖ̴̅. 

He could almost see the spirit crossing its arms in frustration. 

So, are you going to be nice? 

F̸̪̝͇̌̓͗i̸̩͈̎̇͗n̵̫̳̉e̴̤̽.̶̱̀ ̵̤͋B̴͚̄ṳ̸̺̇̂̽t̴̜̰̤͘ ̶̠̬̬̿ǒ̸̢̽͝n̴̻̊l̶̤̅͜ȳ̴̳͔̋͜ ̴̩̠͚͗͌b̵̥̑͊̍ê̶̤͈̹̄c̵̗̱̝̀a̵̮͖͌u̴̱͘͠s̷̬̭͐̔è̴̬͓̩̓ ̴̧͒I̴̗̚ ̴͇͋k̶̰̽̀n̷̜̩̓͊͐o̴͔̫̮͝͠ẁ̶̲̥ ̸̰̯̆̓o̸̰͇͠n̷̨͊͠e̴̅̓̕ͅ ̴̡͇͆d̸̻̋a̸̞͒̅͠y̷̫̥̪̚ ̸͔̝̇̚y̶̥̪̎̋̇͜ó̴̱̿ủ̷̻͓͝r̶͕͋͘ ̵͖̜̫̄s̷̝̓͝o̷̖̊ṵ̵̏l̴̬̝̟̓͒̐ ̴̢̪͍̅̒w̸̭͉͆̏͠ḭ̴͚͍͝l̷͍̽̒̅l̵̡̤͊̍ ̴̛͈ḃ̷͔̜̩̃e̸̙̊͂͋ ̴̥̬̦̓̽m̶̧̩̂̈́͘i̵̳̓̓͘ṋ̷̺̉e̶̡̗̩͌͘.̸̥̿ ̵̯̦̫͌͠Ȁ̴̧̞̭̒l̸̫̪͕̉̕ŝ̴̞̽o̵̭̭̲̽̓͐,̵̘̟̎̃̏ ̸͓̱̙͒̚I̵̛̹͑̑ͅ'̴̺̥̌m̵̱͂̔ ̸͇̆̒f̸͔̩͌͠e̵̞̺͂̔e̷̞̿̎l̴̠̍̒̊i̶̲͖̰̓̈́n̷̞̾g̷͚͓͖͋͑ ̵͙̫͇̏̑ň̴̺ͅḯ̷̥c̸̟̤̭͊͂ẻ̶̮̃ ̶̛̰̫ṱ̴̎̐̐ọ̷͚̜̈́d̶̨̦̏̃ą̸͉̠̓͗̑ÿ̵͔͎́̒.̴̹͚̩̈́͝

Of course. Only because you will it so. Not like you have to because it's part of our package. 

O̶̡̜̘̓h̶̳̏̊-̵̏͑̕ͅ ̵̗̮͛̅̈ṣ̵̛͓͖̑h̴̞̥̺̐ũ̶̜͔͆̕ͅt̵͓̞̂̇ ̶̳̮̣̐u̷̻͝p̶̰͙̾͌͛.̶̱̤̒̿͝Ỏ̵̻̾̉n̴̰̬̓̂̕e̶̦̳̤̾͌̈ ̴̡̬̗̈̊̇d̸̜̔ā̴̠̕y̸̜͂ ̴̧̜̹́y̴̤̥̻̆͝o̶̺̺͈͂ų̴̯̗̌̑ ̵̡̠̮̋̅̎w̸̢̧͐̄̽i̷̢͙̺̋̉̏l̸̤͇̑͂̌l̶̢̹̒̒͝ ̴̼̖͂̚ͅr̴̥̃o̵̜͓͆͒͛ṱ̵̱̖̿͗̋ ̸̨̣̬͛ỉ̶̝͓̣̏n̶̡͙̘̋ ̴̲̹͖̈̌e̵̛͚̞t̷̙̚é̷̗̮r̴̠͒n̸̯̐͂͝ȋ̵̪̈̄t̵̟̍̕y̷̫̞͆̕ ̶̥͚͚̿͑w̸͓͑̇̓ȋ̶̳͉̺̚t̴̡̤͖̏̈́͌h̵̻͕͌̌ ̴̖͕̇̇ͅm̶͔͒e̴̛͎͆ ̸̝͋ä̴͖̙͖́̉͛s̶̪͗̊̽ ̷̨̹̊̂y̴͍͚͛̈́o̷̪͆ų̵̧̋́̊r̸̠͈͉̄ ̵͔͋̃ğ̴̢̥͑a̴̪̐͆̓t̶̥͙́͗e̴̊̅ͅķ̵͂e̴̥͔̬̅è̸̻p̷̛͕̒ĕ̴̳̯ŕ̷̹̱̀͒.̴̝̓̇͆ ̶̩͛̉̂Ñ̸̘̆͜e̷̝̓͆̈́v̸̘͌͌ḛ̷̒̈́̾r̴̲̱̩̐̌͘ ̷̳̗̩̄̚f̸̦͕̮̉̏͛ó̶͎̀̈́r̸̺̦̃̏g̵̙̘̋ě̶͓̜͕̎͒t̶̨̲̔̃ ̸̮͔͖͌͝t̸͚̬̒̊̈ͅh̶̦̫͆̾̈́i̵̘̰̽̉s̶͕̣̪͐̈́.̴̲̺̓̅͝ ̷̵̨̫̳̮̒̈̎

You know, you could just hop on out of my body. You don't have to keep holding out for me to slip up. Because I won't.

I̸̭͇̜̽ ̵̨̤̼̆͘b̴̢̑̒ȩ̵̞̞̌̾̑l̸̝̣̥̐̐̋i̸̟̅ẽ̶̯͍̾v̴͓̊͘e̸̡̞͊͌-̸̪̬͈̋ ̷̞͛̋̕o̸̦̍̚n̴̡̩͖̅̕ȩ̸̗̣̒̅̾ ̸̪̩́d̴̞͓̔͑à̵̦̎̒ÿ̴̢͖́̐̓ ̴̮̈͊y̵̡̺̳̓õ̶̰̇͆ù̶̺̎̕ ̶̻͒̿͒͜ẅ̷̹̣̤́į̴̱̏͛̆l̷̥͗̃l̵̻͕͇̉̕.̷̤͆̏ ̵̗̞̌̅̈͜N̵͚̫̎ō̴̡͎͕̓b̵͍̎o̴̡̥̝͆d̶͖͐̆y̵̰̞̹̓̓͘ ̶̬̔̓͗h̸̦͖̎̓ä̸̮́ṣ̵̩̌́ ̷̱̃͑͑b̸͙̦͈̑͐̕ē̷̺͚e̶̺̹̳̍ṋ̴̑͝ ̴̟̓ả̵̧͖̹̈́b̴̦̈́̏l̵͔̻͂̔ě̷͓͍̂̈ ̴̏ͅť̴̗͍̃ͅơ̸̥͋͝ ̷̡̪͋͊e̵̪̅̉͌s̵̡̖̆c̸͍̉a̶̺̲̎p̸̩̉̉͛ḛ̴̖̪̎̈́͒ ̵̹̥̙m̷̗̫̂e̸̖̺͙̓ ̴͍̋ÿ̴̳́̑̾ḙ̵̮̑͂͑t̴̻̬̑.̵̶̭̬̹́̌̀͘

Oh really? What was the whole deal with the last lady? If I remember correctly, the Gods said you struggled with her for centuries.

Techno had clearly touched a nerve. The spirit's consciousness disappeared from the room, only leaving Techno with it's pure power. Looks like the spirit wasn't interested in trying to get his body today.

Alright. Techno thought, rubbing his frozen hands together. Let's see what we are dealing with.

>{}<

George was getting annoyed of having to use Sapnap like a personal heater.

George was getting annoyed of treading through the deep snow of the Arctic.

George was just getting really annoyed in general.

The horses they rode were long shaggy haired majestic beings, a beautiful purebred breed, hand picked by the royal family. To his left rode Dream on his pure white horse, looking elegant as snowflakes melted around his face. Dream was a well built man, definitely way taller than George. Most of the time, Dream wore a green hoodie and ripped jeans, something that his parents were not very happy with as him being the Prince. But Dream was a tad bit weird. However, today in the frozen wasteland they were stuck in, he wore a bigger, heavier sweatshirt that was too long for him and fell over his hands. Dream had said it was on purpose, to keep his hands extra warm, but George didn't see the practicality of that in a fight. Other than that, he wore black pants instead of his ripped blue jeans, and he had higher boots on as well. His mask was the same, the somewhat unsettling mask that changed based on Dreams emotions. However, normally it was just a smiley face. George wondered if that meant if Dream's resting face was just generally good natured, or if that was just how the mask was made. It was really intriguing, thinking about what was underneath.

George had never seen the Prince- wait, no, the King's face. Nobody had. Well, nobody except the doofus who was riding on his horse to the right of him.

Sapnap was Dream's personal royal knight, one that was hand chosen and raised with him since they were children. He was one of the few people who were close to Dream. George focused on the path in front of him. He was kind of jealous, he thought everyday about what could possibly be behind the smiley face mask. It drove him insane. He tried to picture the face based on how he sounded, he tried to see his side profile, he tried everything, but there was something messing with his mind.

The mask was enchanted so you just couldn't figure it out. Not unless he showed you himself.

George huffed, bored out of his mind. To think, I could be at home right now.

At least it was pretty.

Snow blew in flurries around them, but they didn't need to worry about the cold. They had been fortunate enough that Sapnap was a skilled enough fire manipulator that he could create a bubble of warmth around them that melted any snow before it even got close enough to cause any change in temperature. They had brought snow clothes just in case Sapnap couldn't focus and continue the spell any longer, but he had held up well so far. However, the team did still wear the coats and extra layers, Sapnap's bubble not full proof. Sapnap was improving, not perfect. George watched the glowing bubble of transparent orange waves with a fixation, the swirling patterns captivating in a way similar to watching a fireplace. He wondered if Sapnap was going to try out for the specified fire magic tournament in four years.

Sapnap rode on his horse, face forward, focusing. He could lose his focus for a little bit, but from what he had described the constant use of his power was extremely draining and intense. In one hand, he held the reins of his brown splotchy horse, and in the other he had his hand wrapped with the string of a fire amulet, it glowing slightly as Sapnap whispered the mutterings of the scroll he had memorized before the trip. 

If it was one thing that set masterminds like Dream apart from everybody else, it was his ability to forego any magical crutches and just throw himself fully into untamed magic, no precautions taken. Where other people might need years of devotion to a deity, years of practice with artifacts, or years of memorizing spells, Dream could just call on his power like it was an untapped well inside of him. 

It was also something different with George too, despite it not nearly being to the extent of Dream. Sure, George still needed to do things to take precautions and make sure he didn't explode whenever he used his gift, but it still gave him a slight edge over everybody else. 

George fidgeted, not knowing what to do with himself. He was nervous out of his mind. The area they were in was practically uncharted territory. It was the Arctic. And it was extremely deadly. Legends of packs of wild wolves bigger than their horses, giant ice spirits, and huge hairy humanoid monsters that could kill you in one hit were enough to keep most people away. But apparently not Technoblade. Because that's all that Dream could talk about.

"Did you know that his dad- get this, was the number one adventurer before us?" Dream looked at George, telling him facts that he already knew.

"Your dad was the literal King before you, Dream." George rolled his eyes.

Sapnap laughed. "Yeah, what's with your sudden fixation on this dude." George got a bit nervous that Sapnap had stopped muttering his spell. George did not think he could handle it if he was hit by those icy winds again. 

Dream crossed his arms, up-playing his irritation. "What killjoys. You're only worried that I've replaced you guys with Technoblade for my favorite person in the world."

"Wait, I am your favorite person?" Sapnap trotted his horse a bit faster so he could look around George.

"Well, I said one of you was getting replaced by Technoblade, so it has to be either you or George."

"Oo! Oo! It's me. I know it." Sapnap poked at George, trying to get a reaction from him.

"Oh would you stop it!" George had finally hit his tipping point for what he would tolerate.

Dream laughed, a nice small hearty one and not the one that made George worry that he was about to die. "Oh come on. You agreed to come with."

"I did. That was because you only said that we were going to find Technoblade. You never said that we were going to find Technoblade in the middle of the Arctic, risk our lives, and be out here in the snowy hellscape for four days!"

"Aww, but I'm here!" Dream held his hands out under his chin, his mask changing into a cute scrunchy face. "Am I not enough for you?"

When George didn't respond, Dream continued to talk. "You gotta admit though, it's kinda badass. This dude is off the radar for so long, absolutely no name for him other than his father's legacy. I, for one, actually had no idea that Philza had any children until I had heard about Technoblade. Then, in a single year, he rises to my level by plunging into one of the most dangerous places you could possibly go, practically disappearing off the radar for the second time! It made it hard to do my little meet and greet that I like to do."

Yes. Dream's meets and greets. Whenever Dream felt that somebody was closing in on his ranks, he liked to go get to know them before they blew up in skill and popularity. It was one of the things Dream was good for, picking out who was going to be the next big warrior. Dream had lost time to do it as of recently, seeing how he had just taken over the throne, but he had still made a special exception for Technoblade. He was utterly fixated on this dude.

Ugh. It made him sick to his stomach how fast Dream had latched onto this dude.

"Ut oh!" Sapnap mocked him. "Is little Gogy tired because he had to fight the big old mean ice witch?"

George cringed, thinking about the surprise attack that had happened not less than an hour earlier. They had been walking around peacefully in their little bubble, minding their own business when George had been completely snipped from behind with ice magic. It had taken all of George's concentration to not be completely frozen over.

George's magic was a little weird.

It didn't work like most magic. What he had was the ability to feed off of other energies, channeling them through him. Whether the energy was based off of other people, the place he was at, the star alignments, it didn't matter. He could manipulate the aura around him.

So, technically, George didn't have his own magic.

Something that Dream and Sapnap loved to tease him about.

"It's like he's..." Dream had said in complete seriousness, "Like he's an inanimate object. Like how swords and stuff can channel enchantments. "

"We should've known." Sapnap laughed, "We've known for a long time that there was no brain up in there."

Dream laughed. "Add it to the list of disabilities. Color blind and brainless."

"How's it feel knowing you can only ever be the second strongest person in the room?"

"Oh stop it Sappynappy-" Dream had said when he noticed that the teasing was actually starting to get to him, "George- he hasn't just found his magic yet."

George didn't get what was so wrong with his talent. It wasn't like Sapnap said at all. He couldn't just magically become the second best magic user in the room. Most of the work was his own talent and his own practice. Sure, weak magic was easier to control but also weaker for him to use, and sure, using strong magic automatically made his magic stronger, but it just meant that it was more dangerous to handle for a person of his talents and more likely to backfire drastically. He still needed to be skilled at his talent. And isn't magic manipulation still magic? But still, despite all that, it had hit a nerve with him. He didn't like that memory very much.

And it wasn't like he could just except any energy. If George wasn't aligning himself constantly through meditation and elemental alignments, one day he might try to channel someone's energy and his entire body would just implode. There are different rituals for different magic types, different regulations for whether he is drawing magic from a person or a place or a thing, and different rules for each power level of magic. It was hard work. It was a lot of studying, a lot of tedious practice, and a lot of patience. Nonetheless, the less prepared he was for the energy, the harder it was for him to channel it without getting hurt. 

So a strong sneak attack was the quickest way to do him in.

Unfortunately for him, this particular attack was both sneaky and strong.

He had been able to keep himself from freezing to death as Dream quickly finished the attacker off and Sapnap had panically tried to unfreeze him as fast as he could. George shivered, the cold still sticking in his bones. He didn't think he could survive going through that twice.

"It's okay Georgy." Dream rode closer to him. "If you feel like you ever are about to fall asleep, you can just hop on my horse. I'll watch you while you nap."

George laughed awkwardly. "Thanks, but no thanks." His cheeks flushed a bit red, but it was only from the cold.

"Well, if you ain't going to take it, I will." Sapnap joked, his concentration on holding the bubble broken for a second.

"SAPNAP!" Dream yelled as the bubble fell, a huge wave of snow blowing in and instantly sucking all the warmth from George's body.

"SORRY! SORRY!" Sapnap jumped off his horse and threw his hands up in concentration, now saying the ancient dead language out loud, the words bringing the bubble back over them, encasing them once again in warmth. But the damage had already been done. George was relapsing faster than any of them, being practically frozen in ice just a little bit ago. The cold bit into his body, shocking him straight to his core. George wrapped his arms around him, trying to conserve warmth.

"Ss-s-ssapnap." George's teeth clattered together.

"Sapnap!" Dream echoed after him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Sapnap looked to George, walking closer to bring more heat to him. "I just got excited-"

Dream laughed, still concerned for George but not able to stop himself.

"Nnn-nnottt funnnnyyyyy." George grumbled.

"I'm sorry George." Dream said, genuine concern in his voice. "Sapnap, do we have any extra blankets?"

Sapnap walked around to his horse and opened a pack on it's back. "Not any that aren't soaked through with melted snow."

"Shoot." Dream hissed under his breath.

"I could just ride on his-" Sapnap started.

"And risk you getting 'excited' again? I think not."

"Well- what do you say we do?!" Sapnap sassed back at Dream.

"I-I- I don'ttttt carrrrreee." George could feel the pinpricks of his nerves being overloaded and being absolutely destroyed by the freezing cold. "I'mmmmm so collddddd."

Dream looked at George. "Alrighty. If you don't care~" George didn't have time to react as Dream expertly maneuvered to stand on his trotting horse, keeping his balance and jumping like it was nothing onto George's own horse. Despite knowing what Dream was physically capable as well as mentally, it was still shocking to see him so casually do things that other people would consider extremely hard. Dream settled behind him, his warm body pressing against his. Then, as he finally got comfortable, Dream pulled his oversized hoodie over George's head, trapping George inside.

"D-D-Dreeeammmm." George stuttered.

"What? You said anything." Dream said defensively. "Plus, body heat is the best heat for warming people up."

Sapnap grumbled off to the side. "BoDy hEaT iS tHe BeST HeAt~ Ugh. Why do you get cuddle time and I don't?!"

George scowled. "Y-you arn-n't ttttthe one who isssss frezzzing tttto d-ddeath."

Sapnap ignored George. "Dream! Let me on!"

Dream laughed, pushing Sapnap away. "No! George is all mine!" Dream reached inside the jacket, taking George's cold hands into his, trying to warm them up. "Plus, you need to focus your magic."

"YoU NeEd TO FoCUs YoUR MaGIc SaPNAp~" Sapnap mocked him under his breath, begrudgingly getting on his own horse again holding the amulet up, the red resin illuminating his face.

George gripped Dream's fingers tightly, not able to entirely feel textures. It scared him just a tad, but Dream wouldn't let George freeze to death. Looking up, George looked at the underside of Dream's face.

He should practically be able so see what his face looked like.

But the stupid cursed mask-

"Something wrong, Gogy?" Dream looked down at his excessive movement.

"Justttt ttt-ttrying ttto getttt warmmm."

"Oh alright." Dream said, wrapping himself tighter around George. "How about this?"

George felt himself encompassed by Dream's hug. George was a bit stiff and in a weird position, but Dream was trying his hardest to keep him warm.

George was uncomfortable out of his mind. Dream, well, he was the King. His King. And despite all his insisting, George wasn't just going to forget that. Dream wanted so badly to just be normal, to just be friends, but George was literally on his royal council. He was literally being trained to help run the nation with him. He was to be one of his advisors. It was a lot of responsibility. Not to mention he was just so intimidating, despite the fact that he dressed down, talked normally like a commoner, and had casual relationships with all his close friends. Dream was trying so hard. But it wasn't enough for George. He couldn't just relax. 

At least, that was his reasoning. It wasn't because he was pressed up against his body, underneath his sweatshirt, nothing between them but the thin shirt Dream wore under his hoodie, Dream not even bothering with armor. It wasn't the fact that Dream almost put him on a pedestal, both joking around and having fun with him but always making sure he knew he was appreciated, always being complemented whenever he became unsure of himself. And it definitely wasn't because George had caught himself staring more, looking at the way he moved, not having a face to study. Because if that was the case, that would be ridiculous. 

So, for Dream's sake, George pretended that he was comfortable. 

"Ttt-that's pperfecttttt."

>AUTHORS NOTE<

Hi! First authors note of the story! Thank you everybody for reading so far, and checking out my stuff! It really means a lot! But also, a few things to talk about. 

1\. Can we talk about how I've still managed to post during finals?! Like I'm so surprised. Kinda proud of myself. 

2\. I predicted Techno's voices in his head before chat was cannon, and was able to write later on a way for our voices to be in the story. I must be psychic or something, because also later I predict su!cidal tommy arc before there was even a mention of exile. Dude, I've been writing these drafts for so long, and the content just doesn't stop. But like.... the odds. THE ODDS. Good writers think alike I guess. 

3\. THERE IS SO MUCH NEW CONTENT. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KEEP UP!!!! I JUST WANT TO WRITE IT ALL, BUT I NEED TO CATCH UP FIRST!!!! IM NOT EVEN THROUGH SEASON ONE!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Alrighty, end of rant. That's it! Thank you so much! Everybody have a good day and make sure to take care of yourself!!!!<3 

-RiceKrisp


	18. Rivals

George had woken up to Sapnap's voice again. At first he didn't understand what he had said, his huge yawn buzzing in his ears as he stretched out. Opening his eyes, George realized he was still pressed up against Dream's warm body. George blushed a bit, feeling a bit weird being that close to the literal King, but- but Dream was first his friend before his ruler. Dream had told him that, repeatedly. And friends didn't let friends freeze to death.

"Oh look! Sleeping beauty awakes!" Dream's voice hummed through his body, George feeling the vibrations in Dream's chest that he was pressed up against.

"Gggoooodddd mooorrnnningggg~" George shivered.

"What?" He heard Sapnap's voice from under dreams jacket. "Is he still cold?"

"I- I guess." Dream pulled open the top of the hoodie a bit, letting in blinding light from the white reflective snow of the outside as he peered down at George. George squinted his eyes, still a bit groggy. "Do you think he got hypothermia?"

George shielded his eyes. "Owww."

"Hey- You hurt him!" Sapnap accused Dream.

"No-" Dream stuttered, "No I didn't!"

"Okie- That's enough of your George privileges. It's my turn."

"No! You need to keep the magic bubble up!"

"I- I can MULTITASK!"

"No you CAN'T!"

"I'm hotter than you anyways!"

George groaned as he put his hands over his ears.

It was way too early in the morning for this...

"WHAT?!" Dream raised his voice, his chest vibrating comfortably, unlike the piercing headache George was developing. "We all know I'm the hottest one out of all of us."

"I was talking about BODY HEAT ya DINGUS!" Sapnap threw his palms face up, quite literally catching them on fire. "But IF we WANT TO TALK ABOUT HOT, Hoooowww ABOUT THE PERSON WHO'S ACTUALLY SEEN ALL OF THE FACES HERE?!"

"Yeah then. WHO IS IT?!"

Sapnap stopped his rage, actually looking to the side to think for a bit.

"Uhhh-"

Dream stopped him. "Aye Sapnap?"

"What?!"

"Did the wind just pick up? Like really bad?"

George finally felt awake enough to open his eyes all the way. He was still so cold, a kind of cold that feels like it will never leave your body. But Dream was warm enough to keep him from any kind of serious pain. So, he risked opening Dream's hoodie from the neck hole, peaking out. Dream made a small sound of surprise, but opened it more so George could see.

Indeed had the snow picked up.

The snow now was starting to pound into the bubble in waves, the wind howling stronger than it ever had. A couple of snowflakes fell through the bubble, and a short gust of icy cold wind had somehow managed to reach its way inside. The visibility outside was practically zero.

"Uh- Sapnap-" George could tell Dream was worried.

"On it."

Sapnap jumped off his horse, walking in front of them and planting his feet firmly into the snow. Concentrating hard, he closed his eyes and stuck his hands out in almost a protective position, like he was physically holding the wind back. The amulet in his hand glowed, his lips moving to the words of his spell but the wind was now too loud to hear it now. The ground sizzled around Sapnap's feet as the snow started the melt around him.

"UH- SAPNAP-" Dream's voice was full of panic.

"WHAT?!" Sapnap opened his eyes , just in time to see through the flurries of snow a giant ice crystal shard about the three times as tall as their steeds flew at them, landing just to the right of them, shaking the ground and causing the two horses they weren't riding off on to buck and run off.

"SHOOT!" Sapnap yelled.

George was wide awake now, but Sapnap's failing bubble was letting in more cold air. "Ddd-ddreammm?"

All of a sudden, the snow stopped.

The white flurries, the billowing wind, it stopped.

The snowflakes froze mid air. They hung, like time had frozen.

Dream hadn't seen anything like it. He stared out in wonder, looking forward at the giant structure that was ahead of them.

It was a beautiful natural looking castle, huge arcs of dripping icicles creating pillars and walls, the ice with a semi-translucent glow that seemed to throb with power.

They were looking at an ice palace.

"Dream?" Sapnap turned to him for reassurance.

A low rumbling came from the ground.

"What the hell-" Dream muttered.

Their one last horse bucked and brayed, almost throwing Dream and George off. Sapnap tried to grab at the horse, trying to calm it down. The rumbling grew louder and louder, until the entire ground in a circle around them split open, giant shards of ice piercing the ground, creating a starburst pattern around them.

Dream's heart couldn't stop thumping.

This was crazy.

This was nuts-

Whatever was doing this-

It must be some crazy powerful ancient beast.

Dream hated using his magic when he didn't need to. It was something inside him that hated using it. It was complicated, something that he couldn't even rationally describe without sounding like a mad man. He just tried to avoid it, that's just how it was. But standing here, the worry growing of needing to protect his friends, he let power grow in his hands, there to use if he needed it. 

The shards encased them, blocking all views but a path forward. The hanging snowflakes all fell at once, landing with a soft thud. Sapnap turned to look at Dream, and Dream held George closer who was now shivering like no other.

Dream looked forward, through the deadly ice shards that had just about ripped them to pieces, letting go of the magic in his hands as he decided he wouldn't need to use it anymore.

"Put down the bubble, Sap."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Sapnap didn't hesitate any further, letting his grip go of the magic and promptly falling over after holding the spell for so long. The ground sizzled around him as his knees hit the snow. But Dream wasn't looking at his friend. The wind had stopped when the snowflakes fell, and Dreams breath hung in the air.

There was one place where the wind was still swirling.

Standing on top of the castle, surrounded by crystalized blue shards of deadly ice was a person dressed in a red royal gown, pink hair flicking in the wind, crown on their head.

Dream could almost feel the person make eye contact with him, even through the mask.

Dream smiled. 

This was so worth the trip. 

Dream felt alive.

The person, knowing that Dream had seen them, regally turned around, disappearing into the ice fortress, cape swooshing behind them in the wind.

That could've only been one person.

Technoblade.

>{}<

Dream's heart thudded in his chest. He couldn't believe just how powerful this kid was.

He-

Technoblade-

He was his age?!

The amount of power that he just easily showed off-

Not even stepping down from his castle-

He didn't look winded-

He was so far away-

The radius of that power-

Dream couldn't think straight. His mind was running with all sorts of ideas, all sorts of theories.

But nothing was out of fear. Everything he felt was just pure excitement and amazement. 

Dream sat dumbstruck on their only horse that remained, George still tucked up close to him, Sapnap laying with his back in the snow, a melted shaped snow angle around his body.

"Wwwhhh-hhhat was-ssss tttthattt?" George slipped out of Dream's hoodie, his body still shaking worryingly.

"That-" Dream managed to say through his shock, "That was Technoblade."

"WHAT?!!!" Both George and Sapnap screamed at the same time.

Dream couldn't respond. He couldn't take his eyes off the place that he had been standing. He looked... He looked like a real king.

"ARE YOU TELLING ME?!!! THAT- THAT THAT GOOD FOR NOTHING PUNK JUST- YOUR THE KING?! THAT'S- THAT'S TREASON!" Sapnap yelled, struggling to stand back up from exhaustion.

Dream couldn't hold it in anymore.

He started laughing.

"Wh-hh-hhat's so fffffunnnnyyy." George scrunched his eyes at him.

"It's just that- just that-" Dream couldn't talk because he was laughing so hard. "Its the fact that- WHEEZZZZZEEEE-"

George rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushed red from the bitter cold. 

"It's just- now we have to go, walk in there, and talk to him- like it's normal- I don't know-" Dream didn't know why he thought it was so funny.

Sapnap shook his head. "Nuh-uh. That was enough for me, buckaroo. I don't know about you, but I'm headed back home."

"Common." Dream wiped his wet eyes. "We can't just leave- we have to-"

Sapnap stuck his tongue out at Dream. "Watch me."

Then the rumbling happened again.

George's soft voice was barely hearable over Sapnap's cussing. "Nnnnnootttt agaiiinnn."

But this time, instead of deadly spikes rising from the ground, the giant doors to the ice castle has slowly swung open.

Dream looked at Sapnap, smiling. "I think that's our signal to hurry up."

>{}<

Technoblade sat on the throne in his throne room, heaving deep breaths of air, mask pulled off his face so he could breathe better.

That was-

By far-

The most he'd ever tried to use his borrowed powers.

Techno was absolutely exhausted. But he had guests that would be here any minute.

Dream.

Techno's heart raced even harder.

The idea that Dream had personally hunted him down-

It was crazy.

What was he supposed to say?

What was he supposed to do?

Just- Just-

Channel your inner Wilbur. But spicy. 

Yeah. That will have to do. 

Ĥ̸̭̰̕e̵̯̓̒l̸̳̫̍͆͆ľ̶̛̥̬ḷ̵͉̌̓̌͜l̷̺͋̕ͅl̷̨̬̒̿̒ǫ̷̛̱͇̍͗o̷͙͂̈́͘ǒ̴̬͇͔͐ọ̵̡̊ͅ~ 

Techno's parasite mocked him while he was weak, circling his consciousness like a vulture. 

Hi~

The leech groaned, obviously mad that he didn't get more of a reaction.

T̶̟̬̩̈́͐h̷̹͛̕a̶̦͔͉͗͌͘t̸̩̎̈͝ ̴̛̰͉̣͌̉w̴̝͛ả̴̢̛͈̯̇s̸̫̿̚ ̵̺̫̻̑q̵̣̾̅u̴̪̲͜͝i̵͔̩̇t̸̨͙̕ẻ̷͖̹̺̿̚ ̸̥̹̱̓̒̚ṱ̸̦̤̀͝ḣ̷͔̘̳̐e̸͓̟̣̋̎ ̵̺̯̾̕s̸̠̘͈̈͠ĥ̵͚ŏ̸̠̱w̵͎͉̙̑͆̈

Techno sighed, trying to get his breathing under control. What do you want?

Ȍ̶͓͔̺h̴͎͓͛̍͜,̴͔̗̺͘͝ ̴̱͆n̴̜̥̽ǫ̴̺͒͊̂t̷͚͈̤̆h̵̖̒̕i̴̼̒̌ǹ̸͔ḡ̵͎̣͝.̴̮͖͔́͊ ̸̞̽͝T̴̺͖̎͋͘h̵͇̊̍ͅë̶̪́͘ͅ ̶̧̙̃s̶̱̏̀͝p̸̻̲̾ĭ̶͇r̶̞̺͐̇̾ĭ̷̧̘͋ṫ̵̠̍̅ ̴̬̬͑͜ḡ̶̲͇ȋ̸̼̩͠g̶̜͈̜͒̑̚g̵̻̜̜̾ḻ̸͓͑̾͝e̶͎̝͊͜d̴̘̀̉̓.̴̡͈̄̎ ̷̨͚̰͋̅̐İ̶̡̡̜'̵̡̼̐̽m̵͚̱͑ ̵̫̟̿͌j̸̣̙̫̾͒u̶͓̖̮̒ş̶̙̱̇̍ţ̴̰̇ ̷͓̂̊t̸̨͚̘̚h̵̛͓͝ȉ̴̭͍̿n̷̪̦̬̑͗̔k̶̨͙̘̍̿̐î̷͉͑̓ṇ̷̍̊͝g̵̬̠̪̈́ ̴̖̖͊͗͘n̷̜̪̉͐̕ő̶̼̲͖̉̓ẃ̷̨̢̝͐,̶̘̾̓͘ ̸̺̪̤͐a̵̹͇̲͒̕f̴̝̦̋͜t̶̟͙͛͠e̶͔̔r̷̗̾ ̶̼̞̤̊͐̚a̵͖͓̒͜l̸̫͖̤̎͛l̴͇͚̈́̈́̏ ̵̞̈̿̓y̸͍͋o̷͉̦̍̈̚ǘ̵̲ ̸̗̾̈̈́j̸͒̐̕͜ȗ̷͈̫́ś̷̙͎̓t̷̢͙̝̅̒͠ ̴̧͔͐ḏ̴̑ï̶̯̺͈ḏ̸̢̬̐̆,̷̦̯̹̇̅ ̴̺̋̎̕i̶̧̲̻̍̓f̷̡͓̬̌͑̓ ̶̣̤̝̍̋̚t̵̠͕̊̈́̄h̴̤̤̔è̴͇̣͖̅r̶̘͎͋͒͘ͅe̵̩͒͆ ̴̛͇̎̅w̴̳̃͐o̷͓͛̿̐ȗ̸͚̓͜l̷͉̏ͅd̴̢̙̅ ̷̛̫t̷̢͉͌͒o̴̢͛ ̷̺̪̰̓ḅ̵̯̪͊̈́ē̷͈̱̚͘ ̴͔͈̮͆͊ą̸͈̻͗̕ ̸̛͔̮̯̾̈l̷̲̥̔͋̎î̸̯͚͎t̵̨̬͑͛͑t̶̖͈̥̂̉l̵͖̜̓́͠e̵͇͚̅̈́,̴̤͒̊͊ ̵̙͇̈́o̸̘̬̕h̸̨̿ ̴̟̎̊̕I̴̠͘͝ ̵̪̺̓̐̽d̴̙̙̳̊ő̷̩͓̏n̴̛̰̮ͅ'̵̛̜͒ẗ̶̖̳ ̸̦̼͈̔k̵͎͕͉̓̂͠n̴̗͇͑̊͂o̴̢̹͎͘w̷̭̼̗͒͊͘,̸͓̠̣̒̃̃ ̴͕̑s̶̝̰̅k̷̢͈͋ï̴̙͝r̶̪̝̘͛̓̅m̷̛̙̣̋͘i̶͔͙̯̋̑ș̴̠̗͒̂̚h̷̜̮̿̍͑ ̷̬͊̇b̶̲̳͒é̴̮̗̀ť̷̼̽w̵̹͝ḙ̷̂̐̈͜ḛ̶̖̉̽ͅn̴̡̝̮̈́ ̵͔͚̋̏͜y̴̺̘̐̇̆o̸̭̳̎̆̋ụ̵̀͝ ̵̰ă̵̡͓̻̍n̷̙̭͂d̴̥̪̗͋ ̶͈̙̑́y̷͎̜̝̏o̷̢̾̾u̴̖͂̃r̵̛̰̬̆͆ͅ ̷̲̙̊g̴͌͑̋͜ų̵͙͚̈́e̶̯̻͐š̷͙̈t̵͕̎̈́s̷͓͐̍̿-̸͖̕͜

Oh so you think that I'm weak enough for you to take me over?

Ÿ̶̟͇́́ḛ̸̡̡̔͝s̶̨̞̽̕.̸͍̣͠ ̸̨̣̌̇I̸̯̖̍̌ ̴̫̟̣̉̆͗t̴͕͙̊̽͜h̴̢̬͒̐ȉ̷̛̝n̸̦̩͠k̸͈͎̒̊͝ ̷̥̝̳̿̑s̸̝͍̫͐ȯ̶̤͓͍̓ ̵̡̖͊͘v̷̙͖̑e̵͍̩͗̓̊r̷̨̺̉̈́͜͝ÿ̸͔́ ̸̰̲̇̽ṁ̵̘̉̿ͅū̶̲̪̜c̵̮͐̀ĥ̷͙͇̃.̸̡̾̈́

Technoblade smiled. Good luck~

With that, Technoblade consiously ignored the spirit's voice in his head, instead leaning back on the ice throne and letting the coolness seep into his body. With the ice spirit in him, Techno hadn't needed to worry about getting hot or cold anymore, but after that, he sat there trying to calm down. He felt like he was overheating for the first time in forever.

Technoblade closed his eyes.

What was taking them so long?

Technoblade tapped into the spirit's vision, allowing him to see all across the magical radius. He saw Dream and two other people about their age, talking to each other. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but with a closer look he could see that one was very exasperatedly talking with their hands.

Why weren't they coming inside?

Technoblade looked around a bit, before embarrassment filled his chest. Fixing his mask and outfit, he waved his hand and activated his ice magic.

He had forgotten to open the front doors.

>{}<

George was really cold.

Really really cold.

They were both still on their horse, riding in the packed snow as Sapnap walked, guiding the reins of the horse forward as Dream's steed was still spooked. Dream looked excitedly, head trained on the front castle doors like a pointer dog. George couldn't see Dream's face, but his entire body screamed of pure anticipation.

"Gggg-gguuyyssss," George's lips were turning blue. "Cann wee pleeassse justtt go insideee?"

Sapnap walked over, a good radius of melted snow around his feet. "Jesus Christ. Look at his fingers."

"What?" Dream mumbled as took George's hands again. Sure enough, the tips of his fingers were turning blue.

"I'm so sorry George." Sapnap came up to him and put his warm hands in his. Immediately George felt feeling return to his fingers, but not in a good way. It stung, and George could see light steam seeping between the two's clasped hands.

"Yeah, sorry George." Dream moved behind him, shifting a lot. Curious, George looked behind to see what he could possibly be doing, before his fingers weren't the only thing that was hot.

Dream had taken off his sweatshirt, holding it out for George to take.

George had seen Dream without his sweatshirt before, but it had been a while. It was almost became a taboo at this point, like seeing him without his mask. But here he was, shoving the huge green mass of fabric into his lap.

"Here, put this on." Dream spoke, concerned for George. But George couldn't stop but staring. Dream's hair-

It was a bit longer than he remembered.

Not really too long, but George hadn't seen Dream's hair since it was just a really short, but ever since then he would've had his hood up, only a few wisps that peaked out between the fabric and the mask. But now, George was fascinated looking at it.

It was pulled up into a short bun, a couple pieces falling out a framing what would have been his face. The color was hard to distinguish, George assumed it was because of the mask again, but it was definitely either a light brown or dark dirty blond, with slightly green tips at the end. His hair was speckled with snowflakes, sparkling in the sunlight.

It looked really soft.

"George?" Dream asked.

George hastily grabbed the sweatshirt, being brought back to reality. "Ttthhhannksss."

George didn't know why he was so embarrassed, considering he was just snuggling with Dream over the last night.

But that was just to keep you from dying. George thought.

Well, he countered, so is this.

So why does this feel so different?

"Alright. Let's move." Dream said, satisfied that George wasn't going to get frostbite. Sapnap started to walk with them, leading their horse slowly to the castle front gates, the fortress getting bigger and bigger the closer they got to it.

Dream started to notice detailing in the ice castle. It wasn't just a huge block of ice, like he had thought. The actual castle walls were delicate carvings and designs, absolutely stunning patterns. Dream had his own castle himself, and had been to many others, but this one was absolutely breathtaking.

They reached the bottom of the stairs that led up to the doors, their horse not wanting to go any further. It could sense something unnatural. Sapnap trying the horse on the stairs with a rope. George's knees shook as he stood on them for the first time in a while, and Dream's hands lingered on George, making sure he could stand alright.

"Wow." Sapnap breathlessly gasped. "This place- it's crazy."

Looking back at the area where they had the whole incident, George would be more inclined to say that Technoblade was the crazy one. But he didn't say anything, instead, moved closer to Sapnap who was still warm like a furnace.

Together, they all speechlessly made their way up the steps, their breaths visible in the cold.

Dream was starting to get more nervous. Normally, he was the stronger person. Now, he was starting to feel like he was extremely underprepared. He was still excited to meet Technoblade, but he couldn't shake the feeling like he wasn't the King anymore.

Technoblade was.

George groaned in frustration, watching Sapnap and Dream being transfixed and absolutely starry-eyed at the huge towering castle they had just entered. Sure, it was huge. Sure, it was pretty. But George was going to DIE of HYPOTHERMIA. "Guuyysss- fffaassttt pllleaassseee."

Sapnap shook off the trance, before walking up to George and taking his arm. "This any better?"

Sapnap really was trying hard to make sure George wasn't too cold. Too bad the frost was deep in George, making it hard for him to get warm again.

"I-." Not really. "Yeah, yyeahh thhhnaks."

Every noise echoed, bouncing off the ice endlessly. As they walked, their feet clicked against the ground, the sound beautiful and chilling at the same time. Dream looked around at the main hall they were in, to the many doors and hallways they could turn down.

"Which one...?" Dream turned to Sapnap for help.

The walls vibrated, picking small gusts of wind at their feet and billowing gentle white snowflakes around in swirls. At the end of the hall, two more massive doors opened, the sound like breaking ice, to reveal another long and beautifully illuminated room.

And sitting at the end of the room was the person that they came to see.

>{}<

Standing at the base of the room, Technoblade's elevated ice throne in front, and huge towering sculptures off to the side, Dream felt, for the first time in a long time, small.

Technoblade himself was an impressive figure, even without all the magic and ice swirling around him.

He was tall, Dream could tell that even when he was sitting down, and definitely well built. Not like a massive brute, but you could tell that he had his fair share of training. He had long pink hair, that was pulled back into a braid, all except for two strands that were purposefully kept down by his face. Soft looking fae ears broke through his hair, and Dream was surprised to see that they were pierced.

Technoblade's clothes were also regal, only adding to his intimidating image. He sat, red cape draped out dramatically over the left side of his ice throne, with a long sleeved white dress shirt and dress pants. He wore a crown on his head, a small but delicate one, crafted of pointy ice shards that seemed to have a golden tint to it. Everything looked really good on him. Observing his outfit more, Dream realized something. Technoblade didn't have any shoes on.

Because he had hooves.

Dream had heard of satyr's before, but was shocked to see that Technoblade was one. He had known that Technoblade was the son of (may his soul rest in peace) Philza, but he had done his research on Philza. Philza had strong fae blood, but never really dove into his magic, instead focusing all power into enchanting and potion making. But that was the norm back when he was at his peak, that generation; now the trend was shifting more into untamed magic. But Dream was sure that he had specifically read that Philza's fae blood had manifested in wings. If anything, that's what he expected Technoblade to look like. He was expecting a young, blond, winged dude who didn't use that much magic but had a killer set of weapons.

Boy was he wrong.

Dream stood looking up and Technoblade, absolutely stunned. This-

This was-

This was thrilling.

Dream wondered what Technoblade was thinking about. Dream couldn't get a read on him. He sat perfectly poised, not letting his body language send any signals except that he was the authority here. And it didn't help that Dream couldn't see his face.

Technoblade wore a mask.

It was a boar skull mask, and was absolutely terrifying. Dream felt like the empty black eye sockets were staring straight into him. Dream wondered if this was how other people saw his mask.

It was weird being on the other end for once.

They stood there in silence, watching each other. The air hummed with power, and the only other noise was a small little sneeze from George, who was leaning up against Sapnap wrapped in his hoodie.

Dream didn't think Technoblade was going to make the first move, so he cleared his throat.

"Greetings, Technoblade, son of Philza." Dream's voice boomed through the throne room, snow falling softly from the tops of the statues that surrounded them.

"Hello."

Dream was taken aback. What?

"Uhh-" Dream looked to Sapnap, who looked just as shocked as he did. "Hi."

Technoblade didn't respond, just glaring down at them.

It was-

It was unnerving.

Dream didn't know what to think.

But whatever Technoblade was doing, it was definitely throwing him off his game.

"Uh-" Dream coughed awkwardly into his hand. "My name is Dream, King of-"

Technoblade held out a hand, immediately silencing both of them.

What?

Technoblade's chilling and monotone voice echoed through the chamber. Not like Dreams, full, booming voice, but like it was being whispered in repeat in your head.

"I don't do titles here."

What?

Sapnap scoffed. "Dream- Dream is-" Sapnap looked between Dream and Technoblade. "Dream is the King?!"

Technoblade didn't move an inch, completely unnerving to Sapnap. "There are no Kings here. No laws here. Only the feral rule of the dead Gods."

Was Technoblade- was he referring to himself as a God?

"But-" His voice dragged on, "If you so insist on continuing to call this "Dream" person the King, you must use my full title as well." Technoblade leaned forward in his chair, causing all three of them to take an involuntary step back. "Technoblade, Ruler of the Fortress of Ice, God of the Tundra, Champion Orphan Obliterator, Destroyer of Hopes and Dreams, ."

George sneezed again. "Whh-hhat?"

"So then, are we using titles? Because if so, I would like to know what your two companions titles are."

Dream, couldn't-

He couldn't comprehend.

Couldn't comprehend how a dude could come off so unbothered, uninterested, but yet such a dominant power without having to raise his voice. He was so threatening, and yet the first thing he had said to them was a wavy sounding informal greeting. Dream didn't understand-

Sapnap spoke for him. "No, no. It's alright. We can just go by names." Sapnap looked to Dream, trying to read the situation. "This is George, the one who is freezing to death, and I'm Sapnap, the person trying to stop him from freezing to death."

Technoblades' words were still in Dream's head.

Destroyer of Hopes and Dreams.

Dreams.

Was he-

Was he specifically threatening him?

Or was it just a coincidence?

Or is it him trying to get under his skin?

Technoblade sat, unresponding, still leaning forward threateningly in his chair. They stood, waiting for his reaction.

But Technoblade didn't say anything. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, resting his hand on the arm. Dream didn't know what he was doing, but he felt a spike of magic in the air.

Technoblade was about to do something.

Dream protectively stepped in front of his friends, ready to defend them.

His breathing picked up, fog coming from his mouth.

Sapnap noticed it too.

Technoblade's unmoving face gave nothing away, as he raised his finger tips, blue light coming from them. Dream braced for the attack. Readying his own magic.

But nothing came.

Technoblade sighed, leaning back in his throne, the most relaxed he had sat for this entire conversation, a steel sword now in his hands. Dream realized that was what the magic was for. He had summoned it. Technoblade swung it once, almost in playful boredom, before laying it across his lap.

What-

What was he doing?

In all honesty, Technoblade didn't know what he was doing. He hated confrontation and social situations. But he just kept asking himself again and again what would Wilbur say, then he would take his own spin on it. He was thinking too much. Analyzing too much. He was being too tense, too manipulative, he didn't really know what one was supposed to do in this type of situation. But he did like taking the position of causing others fear. So he just continued along. 

Dream stared in wonder. This man-

This man not only was extremely powerful, but extremely manipulative.

Expertly so.

It was absolutely terrifying.

This. Dream cringed internally. This is a true king. 

Technoblade's monotone voice echoed almost seemingly in their heads. "Will that be all?"

Will that be all-

Dream needed to get his act together. "We are here with a declaration." Dream scowled behind his mask, determined to not let Technoblade get to him.

Technoblade didn't respond, but did sit back up on his throne.

Don't mess this up don't mess this up don't mess this up-

"I assume you've heard of the Official Listings?" Dream spoke up, speaking loudly to make up for the fact that he felt so small.

"And why do you assume that?" Technoblade's voice chilled Dream.

"Uhhh-"

"Well, lucky for you I have." Technoblade smirked, for the first time showing any emotion. "Please continue."

Dream could feel Sapnap behind him heating up. This man did not like Technoblade's tone.

Dream cleared his throat. "We are tied for first place for the adventurer listing."

"Well-" Technoblade coolly, smashing his sword into the ground, leaving it sticking straight up in the ice. "Technically, we are tied for the prospecting of being first. There is a difference."

Sapnap hissed behind him, under his breath. "Just let the dude talk-"

Dream took a breath, gathering all his courage. He was the King. He was the best, the youngest, and the most talented King that the overworld had ever seen.

"This is my declaration. As of today, Technoblade, I had come to determine whether or not you were a worthy opponent. To see if you were truly my biggest threat. Not only have I realized that you are someone of great power, you are also someone who rivals my own. So I come today with a preposition."

Dream looked straight into Technoblade's eyes, clenching his fists and pulling green swirling magic around him, using it for the first time since the trip.

"From today on!" Dream decided not to ask Technoblade- but just to declare it, his previous excitment and thrill growing once again, "We are rivals! I have deemed you worthy to be my greatest threat, but also my greatest ally. Together, as we fight for the top position, let's grow in power so tremendously that we will be Gods on top of everyone else!" Dream threw out his right hand, extending his palm and letting out a billow of green power then lit the room, the ice reflecting the glow. Wind picked up and blew the snow off the ground, creating an almost vortex around them. "Our names will go down together in history!"

Dream's magic pulsed one last time before settling down. Behind him, Dream heard Sapnap's heavy breathing and George's shivering. Picking up the wind hadn't been good for them, but Dream hadn't thought of that. Dream looked back up to the throne, Technoblade no longer there.

Where did he go?

Dream had to stifle a scream as Technoblade just appeared before him, walking out of the swirling snow like a phantom.

Yeah. Technoblade was definitely taller than Dream.

Dream, despite being scared from the sudden appearance, held his own. He stuck out his hand, down low for a handshake.

"So then- Rivals?" He ended, a little anticlimactic.

Up close, when Technoblade smiled, Dream could see his terrifyingly pointed bottom teeth.

Techno took Dream's hand, fingers ice cold.

"Rivals."


	19. The Pit

Tommy couldn't see straight.

His hands shook.

His body was on fire.

He couldn't- he couldn't believe-

He could see him.

Tommy bared his teeth, no noise in his head but the horrendous pounding and the echoing screams.

The screams of-

Tommy pushed forward, every step burning.

There he was.

Tommy threw himself forward, hands grabbing at Technoblade's shirt, grabbing a twisting the fabric as he pushed him against the wall.

HOW DARE HE.

Technoblade grunted as Tommy threw him along the ravine walls but he didn't resist. Didn't even reach for his weapon.

Tommy was shaking with rage.

HOW COULD HE.

Sweat dripped off Tommy's forehead, his hands slick with it as well. But that wasn't the only thing Tommy's hands were slick with.

The blood wasn't his.

Technoblade didn't so much as change his breathing, his empty mask nor the thin line his lips were pulled into showing any emotion.

HE WAS GOING TO KILL HIM.

Tommy couldn't see anything around them. Tommy wanted Technoblade to feel pain. Wanted him to suffer.

"Oh look at that- the gangs all here"

Wilbur's voice was gleeful. Tommy was sick to his stomach.

What was wrong with him-

Technoblade moved, putting his hands on Tommy's stopping Tommy from pushing him back into the wall anymore. It was like nothing was bothering him- like Tommy wasn't just attacking him- like nothing was hurting him- like he didn't understand what he just did.

Tommy's heart rate was going faster than ever. He had never felt this kind of anger before. He would kill him. He would. Right here. If Tommy was strong enough to wrap his hands around Techno's throat-

"Oh~" Wilbur got closer to the fight, dangerously close for the high tensions. "Watch out Technoblade. Tommy's angry at you. Hehe~ He's angry at you Technoblade."

Tommy didn't say anything, his breath coming in heavy huffs. The lanternlight overhead casted their shadows far down the caves, like demons following their moves.

Tommy bit down hard on his teeth, his face scrunching with anger before he did the hard thing. Unclenching his hands, his muscles absolutely burned with adrenaline as he took a step back from Techno. His hand twitched, but he gave Technoblade space as he re-adjusted his clothing and wiped off the front of his shirt. Tommy looked to Wilbur, looking for validation whether or not he had done the right thing. Wilbur strode next to Technoblade, smiling up at him, shadows casted over his face.

"Look at his eyes, Technoblade-" Wilbur leaned on Technoblade's shoulder, draping himself on him to whisper in his ear. "Look at his little, his little bloody hands. Look at him. He's-"

Tommy didn't understand what was happening. He stood there, frozen in place.

"He's pissed at you Technoblade."

Wilbur-

"Lil' boys angry at you Technoblade."

Technoblade stifled a laugh, looking away from Tommy like he knew he wasn't supposed to be laughing.

DO THEY NOT UNDERSTAND?

Wilbur looked Tommy in the eyes, a look that made Tommy flinch.

"Common Tommy. Say something. Say something." Wilbur tilted his chin up at him, his sharp teeth visible in his playful smile. Technoblade stood next to him, looking more relaxed now that Wilbur had taken a hold of the situation.

Tommy felt like he was walking into a trap.

He took a deep breath.

"Why'd ya do it? Why'd ya do that to him, Technoblade?" Tommy's hand needed something to grab. So he gripped the hilt of his sword that was latched onto his waist.

"Well." Tommy cringed at Technoblade's stupid, monotone, calm voice. "I was under a lot of pressure."

Tommy hissed through his clenched teeth, trying to stop himself from throwing himself back at him. Tommy could feel his itching to draw his sword. But he knew that if Technoblade drew his, he wouldn't survive the fight. "You can't just do that- you can't-"

Tommy saw the sparks and explosions in his eyes. Re-lived the horror that he had felt as he realized what Schlatt was doing. He felt the desperation that finally got him to turn to Wilbur and agree that he should go find the button.

His voice shook. "Do you just- what the f- what's wrong with you?!"

Technoblade shifted his weight on his feet, like he was actually taking the question into consideration. "Well, a lot of things actually. I have a bad attention span, I'm bad at conversation,- might've just committed tax fraud recently-"

Tommy didn't hear a single thing that he said, "Technoblade- you just shot Tubbo-"

"Oh- and the murders."

Tommy didn't understand. Didn't understand. They- they were family. Tommy knew that Technoblade had gone off on his own for a long while, had grown to be stronger than anyone here, but looking at him, looking at him calmly just have smears of blood down the front of his clothing, Tommy didn't recognize him as his older brother. What-

What-

What had happened to them?

Even if they were messed up-

He would've never thought that he would hurt-

"We were family," Tommy whispered under his breath.

"Listen- he had a lot of authority. If I didn't follow his orders, there was literally the nation's army there to jump me if I didn't follow orders."

Tommy didn't hear the reason behind Technoblade's answer.

It was just a cop out.

If they were really family-

"You literally have magic- you literally could've taken them all out. You could've gotten away-" Tommy couldn't believe that he had ever looked up to a guy like him.

Technoblade looked to Will, almost like looking for help. "That's not how that works- I told you my magic is considerably weaker when I'm not like- surrounded by ice."

Tommy strode to Technoblade, not able to hold it back anymore. He snarled, before he pulled his arm back and hit Technoblade right across the jaw, Technoblade barely reacted as his mask clattered to the ground. It was like nothing Tommy could do could hurt him. Tommy looked into Techno's eyes, the same eyes that he and Wilbur shared. He couldn't- How- "You- you fucked up man-"

"Will?" Niki's voice rang out from the top of the stairs, breaking Tommy's concentration. "Can I have help please?"

Tommy's heart raced. Tubbo-

Tubbo was in so much pain because of Technoblade.

They had gotten Tubbo here, as fast as possible. Tommy had practically dragged Tubbo's body throughout the secret tunnels, carrying all of his weight.

The smell of burning flesh-

Niki was a good healer. She had ran as fast as she could back to Pogtopia, immediately instructing Tommy what to do and how to help him. He had done everything she had asked- everything-

Hopefully it was enough.

Willbur sighed, like he was going to miss out by leaving to help Tubbo. "Hold this for a sec- hold this for a sec let me go help Niki."

Technoblade watched Wilbur walk away, jogging up the steps. "Oh just leave me Wilbur, it's fine-." He said sarcastically. "Leave me to deal with Tommy all on my own."

Tommy bit his lip. "You're not even family anymore."

Technoblade looked at him, like nothing he was saying had any weight.

"You're just another fucking Jschlatt."

Technoblade raised his hands in exasperation, the biggest reaction he had gotten from him all night. "I'm an anarchist- I'm an anarchist-"

"You're not an anarchist! You just bended to democracy!" Tommy couldn't believe the hypocrisy.

How dare he-

Technoblade pulled his deadly crossbow from his hip, waving it around as he talked, "I shot like everyone-"

Wilbur walked back down the stairs, this time with Niki right behind them. Niki was obviously a bit shell shocked, but Tommy thought back to when she had first got there. When Niki had seen what state Tubbo was in, she had immediately taken control of the situation. Tubbo must be- he must be in a good enough spot now that she would let herself finally feel the shock of what had happened. Wilbur gently held her hand, leading her down into the ravine for the first time.

Tommy yelled up at them, looking for help from Niki, not getting it from Wilbur. "Niki- Technoblade just literally betrayed us-"

At the bottom of the stairs, Wilbur held his hands out, casually like nothing was happening.

"I don't know about you Tommy, but I forgive Technoblade."

His smile chilled Tommy.

Of course he would side with his fucking twin-

"What the hell?!" Tommy shouted, not getting the reactions he wanted, "He just shot Tubbo!"

"Well," Wilbur looked to Niki, watching her scared eyes as she scanned the situation, "What do you want him to do about it?"

"I- I'm just happy Tubbo's alive, Tommy." Niki's voice was no louder than the distant creaks and water droplets deep in the cave.

"I want HIM TO LEAVE!" Tommy ignored Niki, answering Wilbur's question. "Go be next to your President" Tommy got into Technoblade's face, looking up at him as he tried to be threatening.

Wilbur started to laugh, making everybody look at him.

His hysterical laugh.

"You know what?!" Wilbur gleamed, an absolute look of insanity in his eyes. "I have a way to solve this problem. I have a way~" He finished, sing-songy. "Follow me~"

Technoblade looked at Wilbur as he walked down the cave halls, giving a look back to Niki and Tommy before following his twin. Tommy stood there, shaking.

"Hey, Tommy" Niki pulled at his sleeve, making Tommy jump a bit from all the burning tension he was holding. "What's- what's wrong with Wilbur?"

Tommy wished he could answer Niki. He wished he could say something like "Oh, it's just an off day for him." But- he couldn't. Looking at Wilbur, Tommy's heart ached. He needed Wilbur. He needed him. Wilbur was Tommy's older brother- he couldn't just lose hope in him yet. But he needed Niki to know just how bad it is.

"He's gone, Niki." Tommy shook her off, following where Techno and Wilbur had left to. "He's gone."

>{}<

"Welcome to the Combat Pit!" Wilbur threw his arms out wide, proudly displaying the crude hole off in the ground to the side of the hall.

Technoblade stood to the side, already stripping off his armor and weapons. His heavily enchanted gear fell to the ground with clangs, the pile impressively building.

Technoblade unhooked his red cape, swinging it over his shoulder and throwing it to the ground. He rolled up his sleeves, his muscular arms way bigger than Tommy could ever imagine himself getting. He took a hair tie he had found, tying his hair up into a ponytail. Tommy was outmatched, even with Techno taking off his gear. But he didn't care.

Technoblade watched as Tommy started to strip off his own armor, realizing they were really going to do this.

"Sure you want to do this Tommy?" Technoblade watched as Tommy threw his sword to the ground, pulling off his armor harness over his head.

Tommy didn't reply, only looking to the ground as he leaned over to unlatch his shin guards.

Technoblade analyzed the situation, thinking of the different outcomes.

Option one, they get in the pit, and Technoblade absolutely just annihilates Tommy. Good and bad. They'd have another person that they'd have to heal, but Tommy would learn his place. But on the other hand, Tommy would never forgive Technoblade, carrying the shame of defeat and growing it like a grudge. It would build into resentment. Believe it or not, Technoblade does believe that what he did was the safest thing for all of them. He knew Tommy would never see it that way, but that didn't mean that he wanted Tommy mad at him forever.

Option two, Technoblade let's Tommy win. He makes it a close fight, but ultimately pulls out. But Tommy would either see that he was faking, or get a huge ego from winning against him. Technoblade didn't want either of those.

Option three, Technoblade let's Tommy rough him up a bit, before making it a close fight that Techno ultimately wins. This let's Tommy get his anger out, makes him feel like it was a fair fight, but also puts him back in his place. Best of both worlds.

Option four, Technoblade snap crackle pops this kid's neck.

At least with that he wouldn't have to worry about keeping his family together anymore.

Technoblade watches as Tommy silently finishes before jumping into the pit, Niki trying to reach out to him but Wilbur holding out an arm to stop her.

Technoblade stood, standing at the edge of the pit, watching Tommy glare up at him, practically feeling this kid's burning rage being withheld inside him. "We can settle our feelings with our fists, but win or lose, no hard feelings. It stays in the pit."

Tommy scowled at him, raising his fists in a defense position as Technoblade sighed and jumped into the pit.

Wilbur's hysteric laughs filled the small space. "Stays~ Stays in the pit!"

Technoblade readied his fists, clenching his muscles as he prepared to take a couple hits.

Tommy clenched his palms, his nails digging and leaving marks into his hands.

They stood, staring at each other.

They were really going to do it.

Wilbur squatted at the edge of the ledge, looking down at them. "Do it." He smirked, Niki holding her hands close to her chest in worry. "Do it. Punch him."

Tommy didn't know who he was talking to.

"Hurt him."

Tommy huffed a breath, not realizing he had been holding it.

"Put him in his place."

Technoblade shook his head, his pink ponytail swinging behind him as he shifted his feet into a fighting position.

"I'm not doing this for you." Tommy refused to look at Wilbur, instead focusing on Technoblade. "I'm not doing this for you, Wilbur. I'm doing this because you're-" Tommy spat his words at Technoblade. 

"You're a traitor."

Technoblade watched Tommy make the first move at him, analyzing his footsteps. He was moving in for a sharp jab on the right, something Techno could easily dodge.

But Wilbur's outburst made him hesitate.

"KILL HIM!"

Tommy's hand managed to glace off Techno's shoulder, the hesitation making him slow.

Techno side stepped, watching Tommy's eyes as he stumbled by him, the momentum taking him farther than he had intended.

Techno could see the fire burning inside him.

>{}<

Tommy grunted as his fist actually hit Techno. He hadn't actually expected to be able to land the first hit. But the glee didn't last long.

Pivoting with the momentum, dust fluttering from the ground as his shoes skid across the dirt, he turned to take another swing.

HOW COULD HE.

HOW DARE HE.

HE ACTS LIKE HE DOESN'T CARE.

HOW COULD HE HURT TUBBO.

OUT OF ANYONE-

ANYONE HE COULD'VE HURT-

Tommy felt his arm being yanked forward as Technoblade caught his fist midair, pulling him forward and punching him square in the stomach. Tommy did his best to ignore the pain, fighting the screaming in his gut.

He yanked his hand free, swinging again with no real objective, just trying to put some distance between Techno and him.

Technoblade stepped away from the swings, expertly ducking around Tommy.

Tommy could barely see him move.

One moment Technoblade was in front of him, the next he was behind him.

Pain exploded in his back as he was kicked square in the spine, falling forward and hitting the jagged cave wall.

How could he-

Fuck.

How could he hurt Tubbo-

Tommy didn't let the fire die.

HE NEEDED TO PAY.

Turning around, Tommy just had enough time to duck under Techno's throw, his fist slamming into the wall above him, cracking the stone.

Tommy jumped up.

Grabbed his arm.

And plowed into him, both of them tumbling to the floor.

Tommy landed on Techno, fire in his veins, getting in two hits on Techno's jaw, his face snapping to the left as Tommy threw everything into it.

HOW COULD HE.

Techno reached up, grabbing Tommy by the shoulder and threw him off. Tommy rolled against the ground, the throw stronger than anything a normal person could've possibly done. Tommy stumbled up, trying to gain his balance.

Technoblade was getting tired of letting Tommy get hits on him. He would let him have a couple more before he ended it.

Tommy huffed slightly bent over, watching Technoblade slowly stand up. Surprised, he felt something wet drip down his face.

He was bleeding.

Techno came at Tommy, faster than Tommy could track. Tommy threw his arms up in defense, taking the blows before he turned to the side. Technoblade turned slower than usual, and Tommy took that as his chance.

He swung hard, his hand burning from the impact. Technoblade lost his balance, giving Tommy another chance.

He took his elbow and brought it down, all his weight being thrown into Techno's back.

Techno grunted and spun away, taking deep breaths.

But Tommy wasn't done.

Techno had let the last couple hits get him. He thought he was a pretty good actor. He was almost done, he was almost ready to end it quickly.

He huffed, actually getting a bit out of breath. Tommy was making him move, despite his swings being easily read and easy to dodge. But Tommy wasn't a half bad fighter. He was just young and passionate.

Tommy had sparred with Technoblade when they were children after all.

Technoblade watched Tommy run at him, deciding that this would be the last hit he would tolerate.

Let him get a good hit on the nose, Techno thought, enough to make me bleed. That would satisfy him.

Techno watched his eyes, watching the pure anger and agony eat up all his judgment.

But then Techno saw something else.

A glint.

Something that dad's eyes did whenever he had actually fought.

Techno's breath caught.

Wilbur and Techno had been watching Tommy for a while, waiting for any of his fae blood to manifest. They hadn't seen any. Even as children, Techno and Wilbur agreed both their mom and dad had said something about their traits, explaining to them how it worked and how to spot it- and that Tommy hadn't shown anything that they knew to look for. They just assumed since both their parents were half human half fae, Tommy had just been unlucky and gotten all the human.

Techno had never seen Tommy's eyes like this.

Techno didn't know what to do.

He needed to think about this.

He needed to think.

Tommy clenched his jaw.

He was going to make him pay.

RIGHT HERE.

RIGHT NOW.

FOR-

FOR TUBBO.

He pulled his arm back to swing, so sure that this hit would be the last.

He felt something different this time.

He felt energy flow through his arms.

He felt like he could win.

He jumped, ready to throw the punch down.

Technoblade, who was just a second before leaning against the wall heaving, changed.

He stood up, in a perfect fighting position, none of his injuries slowing him down.

Techno-

He had been faking, Tommy realized with fear.

Techno grabbed Tommy mid air by the fabric of his shirt, causing pure panic in Tommy as Techno reared back and threw a full punch into Tommy's face.

Tommy tasted copper in his mouth, the stinging pain exploding and causing his eyes to water. Wet blood dripped from his nose, splattering on the ground. Tommy couldn't see, his vision blacking out, pain feeling like his entire head was burning. Tommy gasped, his ears ringing, and he thought he heard Niki scream in the background.

Wilbur laughed.

Technoblade wasn't done.

With a huff, Technoblade took his momentum and counteracted it, stopping him mid air before lifting him up slightly, Tommy's whole body wretched with the motion.

Then he slammed him down.

Tommy felt himself slam against the floor, his body screaming as the pain vibrated through his body. Tommy coughed up blood, the force knocking all the breath out of his lungs.

It hurt- so bad.

Tommy laid there, unable to move. Every breath felt like he was dying. He couldn't see, he clenched his eyes closed.

"Tommy!" Niki screamed, stepping into the pit.

Technoblade stood over him, an actual bead of sweat falling down his face.

Niki ran past him, pushing Technoblade away.

"ENOUGH!" She cried, tears in her eyes.

Technoblade looked down at Tommy. "I was done anyways."

Niki stood protectively over Tommy, watching with tears in her eyes as he walked away, Wilbur holding out a hand to help him out of the pit.

Wilbur smiled. A cold empty smile. A smile that Technoblade couldn't return.

"Good job~"

Niki didn't wait any longer. 

She kneeled beside him, her hands brushing on his slick face, blood on her finger tips. 

Tommy couldn't hear what she was saying. He saw her lips move, but he was already fading. 

He managed to make out one thing before he fell unconscious. 

"Hang in there."


	20. Fallen God

Ice formed at his fingertips, and Technoblade thought for a second, he had finally got it. The crystals were forming just above his hand, just like he was envisioning. He focused harder concentrating on making sure he controlled every aspect of it. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

He was so close.

The concentration, despite how hard he tried, could only hold the power for so long. The ice crystals started to get closer to his hand, but Technoblade wouldn't back down.

He was so close.

Hissing, Technoblade threw his hand into the steaming water he sat by, the precaution he had to take. He couldn't get it right- he couldn't stop the ice crystals from touching his hand and almost immediately causing freeze burns. No matter how hard he focused, no matter how hard he tried- he couldn't get it.

His left hand was shot. He had started with his non-sword hand first, thinking maybe he would have that be his magic hand. He had tried to form ice without any way to warm up his hand afterwards, and had paid the price. He had watched in horror, no way to stop the blueing in his hand and the pain that felt so much like burning that eventually made it numb. The ice started to snake up his arm, and in a panic Technoblade had considered that maybe he would have to cut off his arm. But when he had run out of his inn room, a maid had been carrying a bucket of hot water to draw up somebody's bath. Poor lady screamed in shock when he, still wearing his very unsettling mask, jumped at her and threw his arm into the boiling water, splashing it all over the hallway.

She had screamed and ran away, leaving him with his throbbing arm and the bucket.

It was a fun story to explain to the innkeeper.

This ice magic thing was a lot harder to get when he didn't have a spirit in his body stopping him from dying every time he used it. At least he didn't have to constantly keep his guard up to stop from getting body snatched. 

Technoblade didn't know what to do. He had left the ice fortress, sure he had spent enough time there. Any more time and he feels like he would've become too dependent on the leech's power, and he couldn't have survived much longer resisting the spirit from taking over his body. The ice gods weren't very happy, and Technoblade had to fight his way out, but he had managed to get away with enough energy to carry him and his wounded body to the nearest snowy village.

It was weird, going from being practically a god in one second to being basically back at square one.

No, Technoblade scolded himself, not at square one.

Technoblade had managed to change his magical alignment from a nature alignment to ice.

Which was a big deal.

Changing magical alignment was something that only professionals managed to do, and only then just a select few could manage to do it safely. The fact that Technoblade had managed to do that at all-

It was a huge feat.

But Technoblade had just met Dream. He was already in the big leagues. He couldn't fall behind now.

He had to get a hold of this new power.

Preferably fast.

Preferably before he saw Dream next.

Technoblade shift through his knowledge, trying to think of anything he may have learned that could help him. Anything that the spirit had said, anything from the dead gods, anything he had read at the fortress' library, anything his dad had said.

One memory came to mind.

>{}<

Philza loved to travel through air. It made things so much easier. Flying above all the world, wind in your hair, away from all the danger, that in his opinion was the best way to travel. Philza, if his wings had the endurance to do more than 30 mins at a time, would fly for all his trips. However, he couldn't. Flying burned way too much energy, his body going through calories like no other. So unless Philza had a feast ready for him when he landed, he tried to walk as much as possible.

That's why, despite having wings, Philza had a horse for Techno and Wilbur.

Walking on the ground, pulling the horse forward gently with the harness, Philza looked back at his twins who were sitting on the horse, one in front of the other, Technoblade riding in the back and Wilbur riding in the front. Strangely, Wilbur wasn't liking the ride as much as Technoblade did. Philza had thought it would be the other way around, with how happy-go lucky Wilbur was and how anxious Technoblade was, but Technoblade had immediately felt at home on the back of Allegro. Which was ironic, seeing how Wilbur was the one who named her.

"Hey Dad?" Wilbur asked behind them, looking around at the trail around them, watching the passing trees of blooming red leaves that were starting to fall to the ground. "Who's this lady we are going to go see again?"

They were barely on their trip, the third one that Philza had taken the twins on. It was the fifth on for Technoblade though. Philza had decided that Technoblade definitely did better in high stress situations than Wilbur, despite being the one more awkward in everyday situations. He felt more comfortable taking Technoblade into more dangerous situations. Of course, he never brought them into anything that he believed would bring them harm. But for the two trips that were longer and more travel heavy, he had thought it would be best that Technoblade was the one to come with him.

And Wilbur was okay with it.

Wilbur had pulled Philza aside after their first trip, asking him to never take him on another trip that was longer than a week again. Philza had hugged him and happily agreed, proud of Wilbur for having the guts to lay his boundaries down to his own father. It was understandable, most people didn't find the life that Philza and Technoblade were natural at fun.

"Uh-" Philza thought hard, "Her name escapes me, but she's a dream interpreter. I thought it would be fun for you guys to go ask her some questions." Philza brought Allegro farther on the dirt path, sun shining at its peak in the Autumn sky. The wind rustles the leaves, the sound like whispers ebbing in and out like tides. It was a slight breeze, crisp enough to warrant long sleeves and blankets for the trip.

And I have some questions for her, myself. Philza thought.

Technoblade sat quietly, constantly scanning the tree line. He had taken it as his duty to watch for mobs that might still be out during this time of the day. On one of their trips they had taken just between him and Techno, they had almost been jumped in the middle of the night by some skeletons. Philza had taken care of them easily, but Technoblade was very protective of Wilbur. So he sat, not getting in on the conversation. 

Well, it's not like he would've talked even if he wasn't constantly focused.

Wilbur scrunched his face, looking up to the sky. "But how does that work?"

Philza laughed. "I don't know. It's magic."

"Magic? But aren't you magic?"

Technoblade looked forward, suddenly very interested in this conversation.

"Yes- but it's not the same." Philza struggled to explain.

"How?"

"Uh-" Philza thought thoroughly, thinking of the best way to explain it. "Magic is a very individual thing. But it's not? It-" Philza struggled for words. "There are common ways of channeling magic. People make rules. They worship in the gods they believe in. They believe that they get the correct commandments from their deities that they follow, and they create the ways to practice that magic. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Whether that means the gods are real or not, I don't know. But people create things like scrolls, magic words called spells that create certain magical reactions, and they make altars and design temples. So, depending on how you follow, it's different for each person. But there is an overarching path for everything, any magic that you naturally lean to should probably have a path already laid out."

Wilbur listened closely, taking in every word. "But you don't worship a god? How do you get your magic?"

Philza smiled awkwardly, unprepared to be put on the spot. "Uh- yeah. I don't. I don't believe in every little power being a specific god. Sure, they're are some powerful things out there, people who are near impossible to kill. But how do we know? How do we know that they are actually immortal? What even qualifies to be a god anyways? I- I feel like not everything that has power should be called a god."

"Okay, but do you believe in like God God?"

"Hehe- uh, not really. But, if I do meet God," Philza turned to look Wilbur in the eyes, "I'll know him when I see him."

Wilbur was a bit off put by the last comment, but he decided to continue the conversation.

"You said that their would be a path for any magic that we naturally leaned to."

"Uh- I did say that."

"But-" Wilbur looked back at Technoblade, "But what do we lean to?"

Philza smiled at them. "Probably either your mom or mine's power. If you're unfortunate, you'll get my lame deal of just physical enhancements. But if you get mom's, you'll have fun with that."

Wilbur got excited, "What was Mom's?!"

"Well, you remember what mom was, right?"

Techno was confused about what he was referring to.

"What?" Wilbur asked, making Technoblade feel less dumb for not knowing.

"Well, you know how mom was a satyr. A powerful one too. She specialized in brute and natural magic."

"Oh! Really!" Wilbur leaned forward on Allegro, excited. "Do you think I'll have that?!"

"Hehe- I don't know." Philza pet Allegro, keeping her moving. "If I had to put money on it, I would guess that Wilbur, you would get her natural nature magic, probably through some form of art."

"Art? You can do magic through art?"

"Yes, you can. And Technoblade, you probably will be some sort of brute magic."

"Aw, isn't that cool Technoblade?!" Wilbur looked behind him, smiling widely.

But Technoblade wasn't done thinking about the previous conversation.

He had listened to the conversation intently. Sure, he was excited to hear more about mom and what dad thinks his magic would be like, but he was still caught on something. He had remembered talking to mom about one thing they had said specifically, something stirring in his memories. Techno desperately wanted Wilbur to keep asking the questions he wanted to ask, but it looked like he had gone on another train of thought. Technoblade gritted his teeth, realizing if he wanted the rest of the conversation he would have to continue it.

"But you do have magic. Earlier you said you had magic." Techno spoke up. 

Philza raised his eyebrows in surprise, wondering why the sudden backtrack in conversation.

"Yes. Yes I do."

"I don't see you using scrolls. Or spells. Or worshipping deities."

"Oh- that's because that's more hardcore magic. Those types of people are the types that qualify for the huge Magical Combat tournaments. The magic that I have," Philza opened his wings, expanding them wide, "Comes from myself, and only myself. So I can't do anything fancy without going into untamed magic. Which, trust me, is not worth it."

"So what does your magic do?" Technoblade prodded, his questions without mercy.

"Well, uh-" Philza got a bit embarrassed. "Not much really. Just enhancing me physically. Nothing special, but it helps for what I do. Hardcore adventuring."

"Hardcore adventuring," Wilbur echoed back in awe, "Is that what we are doing right now?!"

"Not really," Philza was honest, "But if I had taken you hardcore adventuring, I wouldn't be a very good dad, would I?"

Technoblade was still caught on something Philza had said previously. "Why is untamed magic bad?" The question burned in Technoblade.

"Well, uh- it um- it destroys the body." Philza said quietly, not looking at his boys. "Most people die. It's energy, it's so explosive that it'll kill a person from the inside out. Only masters who have perfected normal magic dare venture into untamed magic." Philza thought about not going into detail, but decided that the boys were old enough. "And it's worse if you don't die immediately. It's like- it's like they go insane. Their body's are taken over by the energy they are trying to control. People who try to control earth slowly crumble into sand. People who try necromancy slowly decay. And their minds get foggy too. They forget who they are. That's why it's better to stick to normal, practical magic."

Yeah dad. Well, get a load of me now.

Freeze burning my fingers trying to tame untamed magic.

Following Gods who you never even believed were real.

Technoblade squinted his eyes in pain as the water melted the ice off his fingers. 

Just one more time-

He was so close. 

He was going to get this, no matter what the cost.


	21. The Mask

Snow was viciously falling from the sky. It swirled around them like it was trying to break Sapnap's protective bubble around them, like it was trying to get to them. From as far as the eye could see, the expanse in front of them was just a void of white. Dream had never been in such a storm before. Luckily, Sapnap was holding strong, constantly battling against the freezing cold, the spell being repeated so many times that Dream could probably recite it if he needed to. Dream looked at Sapnap and George, worried. They sat on the horse, Dream walking and leading through the snow, letting Sapnap have the horse so he could focus on not only keeping George warm, but also focus more on the constant spell that was draining his energy.

It was only one more day until they should be out of the Arctic.

That's what Dream was repeating again and again, trying to calm his nerves.

That's what he needed to do.

Because George wasn't getting better.

Sapnap was heating himself up the most he could, Dream could practically feel the burning even a couple feet away. But it wasn't doing anything. George still shivered, wrapped up in all the layers they could spare. His lips were blue, his fingers were blue, and all he did was sleep.

One more day. One more day and they could get help.

Dream had been thinking hard about what was wrong with him. At first he thought it had to be the witch's attack. It had to be. But Dream had taken care of the witch even without using any magic, his pet peeve of avoiding magic not needing to be broken. He had literally just rushed her and cut her down before she had another chance to strike.

She hadn't been that strong.

But George was still freezing to death.

He decided that it couldn't have been the witch. No way she was powerful enough to make the effects of her magic last so long. It must be George.

George must've accidentally channeled the magic wrong in his panic when he first got attacked.

Dream gritted his teeth, coming to this conclusion. Yes. That's the only thing that made sense. It couldn't be anything else. But that made things a lot harder. Because they had already tried to get George to align with Sapnap's magic.

He hadn't been able to do it.

The only ways they knew to get George's magic to fix itself were going to be hard. They either...

One, wait it out. But they couldn't really do that. George would freeze to death before that.

Two, get him to change his alignment, something that George had already tried to do and failed.

Three, get somebody who could cancel other magic to shut George down.

All of those were going to be near impossible to do. What they needed was time. And they were running out fast. Dream couldn't live with himself if he was the reason George died. 

"How's he doing Sapnap?" Dream called back to them, taking a break from all the thinking.

"He's- I've managed to keep him from getting frostbite, but that's about it."

Shit.

Dream was going to have to think of something, and fast.

"Sap," Dream tried bouncing an idea that he had off of him, "Do you think if you just like... attacked him would his body automatically defend itself and try to align to your powers?"

Sapnap hugged George closer, the mass of blankets doing nothing for his freezing friend. "I thought we already tried to get him to align to me."

"I- I know." Dream worried as another strong burst of wind hit the bubble. "But what if it was involuntary. If he felt like it was life or death."

Sapnap looked at Dream. "I'm not- I'm not going to risk hurting him."

"I'm not saying that you do." Dream thought, compromising his idea, "I'm saying, maybe, I shake him awake, and like- scream something like - help me George! Then you attack me. I can handle getting a bit toasted, if it means that George might snap out of it."

Sapnap sat in silence, body language screaming that he clearly thought this was a bad idea.

"I don't like it."

Dream swallowed hard, looking at both of them struggling so much. 

"What choice do we have? Would you rather risk me getting hurt or George dying?" 

Sapnap bit his lip, before laughing bitterly. "What a fun trip this turned out to be."

"So?"

Sapnap sighed, the bubble of warmth flickering a bit as he lost concentration. "Yeah. Yeah. Whatever we have to do." 

Dream clenched his hands, stopping his steps and bringing the horse's trot to a stop.

"Whatever we have to do."

>{}<

George was so cold.

It chilled him from the very bones in his body. It was a cold that consumed him from the inside out. He was so numb, he couldn't feel anything beside the pinpricks in his fingers and lips. He faded in and out of consciousness, unsure of where he was anymore. He didn't know where he was, except for the confines of his blankets and Dream's hoodie he was wrapped up in.

Dream's soft, warm hoodie.

Violently, he felt his world shaking.

What was happening?

His ears rang as he tried to open his eyes.

He couldn't focus.

He thought he heard Dream's muffled voice.

"George! George help! Help!-"

"Huh?-" George struggled to understand what was happening.

"George! You need to help me!"

George was trying his hardest to hear what he was saying. His eyes unfogged, he saw Dream's mask just inches away from his face.

"George! Sapnap's gone crazy! He's going to kill me!"

George stared at Dream's face mask, it animating a face of horror.

"Sapnap?" He mumbled.

"Yes! You need to act right now! If you don't, I'm going to get hurt!" Dream stepped back, and George tried to think.

Huh? What was happening?

All the sudden, flames jumped from the peripherals of George's vision. He didn't see Sapnap, but he heard Dream scream.

"DREAM!"

George broke from his grogginess, standing up, and watched Sapnap throw fire at his King.

Dream-

Sapnap and Dream watched in horror as George threw himself in front of the flames, the flames that Sapnap had intended to never touch anybody.

Dream....

>{}<

George woke up in a different place. The first thing he noticed was how he didn't feel like he was freezing to death anymore. The second thing he noticed is that for the first time in a while, he was laying down on something soft, still wrapped up in Dream's hoodie, blankets piled on top of him.

The third thing he noticed, when he opened his eyes, was the room he was in.

It was a cozy room, a small living area that was washed in a golden light of the flickering fireplace that was to George's right. The living room connected into a small kitchen that had a tiny wood stove and washbasin, and a hand-crafted looking table, where his two friends sat talking, their side profiles to him. Wait-

George rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Dream-

George watched in wonder as Sapnap talked to Dream, his hands reaching into the bag on the table, pulling out bandages and turning to wrap some of Dream's wounds.

"Hold still-" Sapnap hissed as he brought his hands up to put a bandaid on Dream's face.

George held his breath.

Dream's face.

His actual face.

George couldn't breathe. He couldn't believe it.

Dream's face.

He was- he was-

He was pretty. George finished his thought with a blush.

"D-dream?" He couldn't stop himself.

"George!" Dream exclaimed, turning to look at him before realizing he had his mask off. Quickly, he turned around, throwing his hands on his face to stop George from seeing.

"George!" Sapnap followed, standing in front of Dream so he was blocked from George's view.

"Why- why is Dream-"

"Haha- how you doing? You feeling better?"

"I saw Dream- I saw his face-" George muttered, his voice laced with the grumble of sleep. "Dream?"

"No- no! You must be hallucinating!" Sapnap denied, throwing his hands up blocking his view more. "Sleepy Gogy! Sleepy Gogy always seeing things!"

George struggled to stand, throwing the blankets off of him and onto the floor. "No- Dream?" He tried talking around Sapnap, trying to push around him but too weak to really get anywhere. "Why- why are you- I've already seen it-"

Dream turned around, mask now placed firmly on his face. "No you didn't- You were just sleepy. More importantly, how are you feeling?"

"Why- why are you hiding this from me?" The room was starting to shake a bit, George still not at his full health. "It doesn't make sense- you're not ugly- you're actually pretty good-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Dream reached out grabbing both of George's arms as he started to stumble, holding him up. "Sit back down. Please."

"No!" George's frustration he had been holding in bubbled to the surface. "Am I not your friend? Sapnap- he- what's wrong with me that you don't want me to see you?"

"Nothing's wrong with you. It's me." Dream gently pushed George back to the couch, despite his resistance. Soft carpet brushed against George's feet as he tried to dig his heals into the ground.

"If it's you, have you ever thought that maybe I'm worried for you?!" George yelled, his voice weaker than normal. "I don't know what's going on?! I don't know if something is wrong with you?!"

"You're- you're worried about me?" Dream stopped pushing on him, Sapnap standing at his side.

George punched his shoulder in frustration, his arms not able to cause any reaction out of Dream. "Listen to me! What's wrong with you!"

Dream's mask's face changed to shock as he looked over at Sapnap.

"Don't... I know what you are thinking."

Dream completely ignored George as George hit him again. "Tell me! Am I not your friend?!"

"Sapnap..." Dream grabbed George's wrist to stop him from hitting him again, his grip soft but unyielding. "Can you.... Can you give us some privacy?"

Sapnap sighed. "You really going to tell him?"

"Yes!" George struggled against Dream's grip. "Tell me."

"I- I think it's time." Dream looked at Sapnap, his body language screaming for Sapnap just to have mercy.

"....Okay." Sapnap frowned, before slowly leaving the room. "....Good- good luck."

George looked up at Dream, his entire chest filled with anticipation. He couldn't do this anymore. His emotions were boiling over, all this time of wondering were finally going to be put to rest. "Good luck?"

Dream looked down at George, who now had sweat on his forehead from his body not being ready for all the physical activity. "Let's sit down."

"Ok- okay."

Dream gently pulled George to the couch, his warm fingers rubbing on George's wrist. They sat down on the couch, falling into the cushions and Dream throwing a blanket over George, still worried about him being cold and shaky. Dream sat stiff and uncomfortably, both feet pressed into the ground like it was holding him steady.

"Do you- do you remember what happened? How we got here?"

George frowned. "That's not about- that's not what we were talking about."

Dream sighed, rubbing his temples. "I know. But as soon as we start talking about this, that'll be all you want to talk about. We need to get other things out of the way first. So, do you remember?"

George thought hard, his last memory of being in Technoblade's castle. "No. No I don't."

"Well... you had started to freeze. Really bad. Me and Sapnap-" Dream swallowed hard. "We decided that it wasn't the witch attack that had done you in. We decided that it was you and your alignment going all wonky. So we tried to get you to align with Sapnap, but you couldn't. So we-" Dream stumbled on his words, "We ummm... We decided to try to force you to."

"What?!"

"Yeah!" Dream held up his hands, looking straight at George's fuming scowl. "Yeah! And it worked! It worked!" Dream defended himself. "You aligned with Sapnap, but I- I had kinda- I had kinda instinctively jumped out to protect you when you walked into the fire. I got burned pretty bad, and Sapnap- we owe him our lives. He dragged both of our unconscious bodies all the way to the nearest town where he got help. Right now- right now we are in an inn in a little snowy village right outside the Arctic."

"You- you what?"

"I what? What are you talking about?"

"You jumped out in front of me to protect me?"

Dream laughed softly, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "Yeah. Pretty stupid of me too. I should've known that you'd be okay."

"That's not- that's not stupid." George rubbed his hands together anxiously, looking at Dream's bodies for any traces of burns.

"Yeah. I'm just glad- I'm just glad you didn't freeze to death."

"Me- me too."

"Well... that's how we got here." Dream finished, letting silence hang in the air.

"So- so are you going to- are you going to tell me?"

Dream didn't answer, just looking forward.

He reached up to his face.

He lifted off his mask.

"Dream-" George was filled with awe. Seeing him up close, without a mask- George couldn't help but feel like he was seeing something that he wasn't supposed to see, like it was scandalous.

He blushed.

Dream was hot.

Maybe it was because of all the time he had spent with him, all the time that George had thought about what he could've looked like, all the time he spent wondering in curious agony. But Dream looked exactly how George thought he should look. Strong jaw line, beautiful green eyes, dark blond hair falling into his face. Bandages covered little scrapes on his face, the half finished work of Sapnap that he had tried to do to fix his burns.

Dream looked away from George, blushing when he saw the look on his face.

"Do I- do I look like how you thought?"

"You look- You look perfect." George said, before realizing exactly what he was saying.

"Oh- thanks. " Dream said, clearly trying his hardest not to look flustered.

Dream fidgeted, a bit, taking one last look at George before slipping the mask back on. George's heat sank. He had wanted to- he thought that this meant that he wouldn't need it on all the time.

"So... so basically..." Dream relaxed, feeling less awkward with his mask back on. "You know, you know how I'm like- filled with untamed magic, right?"

"Yeah?"

"And even though we were family, my parents and my sister never showed any magic like I have..."

"Yeah? But I thought you were just special?"

"Yeah. Yeah I am. But not because of luck." Dream breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down. "My parents, they had... they had asked and made sacrifices to the Gods for a firstborn that could control the power of the Gods, control the world."

George sat there in shock. Control the world-

"Yeah... Yeah and they got their wish." He said almost bitterly, "But with a cost. The untamed magic, the amount that I have been given is too much for a human body to handle. Any stress, any little thing can cause me to go into- what the healers called meltdowns. It's where the- the magic inside of me started to destroy my body. I was- I was such a sick child. I never felt good. I always felt like my body was trying to rip itself apart. But, then, they had found a crafter that could make me a mask, a mask that would allow me to live a day without feeling like I was dying."

George didn't know what to say- this was all so much information.

"Around people I've known forever, or people who don't cause me stress, I can take off my mask with little risk of a meltdown. Like Sapnap. Or my sister."

"Or your mother?"

Dream didn't look at George. "No, not really." 

George almost didn't want to ask the question. "What- what about me?"

Dream looked away, instead focusing on the burning fireplace. "You- I don't know. You are different George. It's different then Sapnap." 

"Is it a bad different?" George bit his lip. 

"No. Definitely not. But- I don't know. Maybe I'm just being weird." He fidgeted. "But now- now you know. You know the truth."

"Dream-"

Dream laughed hysterically. "Remember how when you first talked to you, I had forbidden you from ever, ever channeling my power? From ever using it? It wasn't because I was just a prick. I was scared that it'd rip you apart too. I didn't want you to-"

George broke through Dream's words, reaching out and grabbing his sweaty, nervous hands.

"It's okay. It's okay. I'm-" George smiled at him, trying his best to comfort him, "I'm so happy that you told me."

Dream stuttered, surprised at the physical contact. To George's disappointment, he pulled away, bring his hands to his chest. "That's- that's not all."

"What?"

"The- the healers and doctors that have looked at me- they say that my body being torn apart, that my body isn't fixing itself."

George didn't know what he was saying.

"The healers don't think I'll live past 25."

"Wh-what?"

"The untamed magic- it's pulling me apart. My body cannot physically handle it. One day- I'm afraid I'll just melt- That's why I need to do everything now. Be the best king now. Need to build my legacy now. Because there won't be a later.- I can't take off the mask. My face, when I'm not stressed or with someone who comforts me, the chances I go into a melt down are lessened. But if I don't have my mask on when I go into a melt down, it literally takes years off my lifespan."

George took the information like he had just got slapped in the face. His eyes teared up. This is why- this is why he didn't want to tell him. Because he was dying. He was dying right in front of his eyes.

How were you supposed to react to your best friend in the world telling you they were dying? How were you supposed to take the news when he was still very much alive sitting right in front of him? How was he supposed to live knowing that he could never help? How- how how how-

"Dream-" George opened his lips to say more, but no more noise came out.

He couldn't believe that the man he had come to admire so much, the man who had risked his life for his multiple times, the man that was always so steady- always a constant comfort, had his life on a timer.

Dream couldn't look at George.

George laughed awkwardly. "I guess that's why Sapnap wished you luck." 

Dream broke, his emotions causing soft hysterical laughs as he managed to look back at George, making him smile despite the pain he was going through. George- he was unbelievably adorable. 

He smiled wearily, his laughter quieting. "Thank you... I'm- I'm okay." He sniffed.

He wasn't.

George, in a sudden movement, leapt forward and tackled Dream down on the couch in a hug. George didn't know what to say. So he would just have to try to comfort him a different way.

Dream froze, shocked, before he tightened his arms back in return.

"Th- thanks Gogy."

You have no idea how much this means to me. 

You have no idea how much you mean to me. 

>AUTHOR'S NOTE<

<3 Merry Christmas! <3

I hope you love my gift of a bit of angst and fluff! Have a good holiday, make sure to spend time with your family, and eat tons of food!!!! And as always, thank you for reading! Wishing you all the best,

-RiceKrisp


	22. Visions

The town had been nice enough. It was a small one, a sleepy town with only one bar, one inn, one market. Basically one of everything.

But there was something very special here.

Well, somebody special.

Wilbur watched as his dad checked Allegro in at the stable. Wilbur ached from the long trip, he realized that he was prone to getting saddle sore. Unlike Technoblade, who looked like he could ride for another week. Wilbur was jealous. He liked the idea of horses, liked the beasts themselves, but as soon as he got on one, that was enough for him.

Philza had walked them through the town, the small street basically vacant from all traffic except old couples who sat out on their porches and children who ran by, screaming as they played in the leaves in their backyards. Wilbur watched them, thinking back to Tommy and Toby who were at home who were in the care of Abigale.

Wonder how they're doing.

All the houses looked practically the same, all cute wood cottages perfect for the turn of the season. It looked like something straight out of one of the paintings their mom had done on their home walls. The ones that Wilbur had asked her about. One of his cherished memories of her.

It was quite a while back, and the memory was a bit foggy, but from what he could remember, his mother was leaning over on the floor, twisting her body in the most peculiar way trying to reach a spot to paint while avoiding all the wet paint on the floor. The painting she was drawing was spilling off from the walls, cascading onto the floor like no bounds could hold her masterpiece. She was painting a huge mural in the dining room, her scene of wild Autumn animals and red majestic trees threatening to continue into the connecting kitchen.

Wilbur laughed at her as she struggled, watching her blowing her fluffy hair out of her face that had fallen from the confines of her bandana.

"Ayeeeee," She looked up at Wilbur, sharp teeth visible in her genuine smile. "Watcha laughing at?!"

Wilbur giggled, ducking behind the kitchen counter.

"Nothing! Nothing!"

"Aye, it better be nothing or I'll get your butt over here and smear your face with this paint!" She laughed, pointing her wet paintbrush at him threateningly. Wilbur peaked from behind the counter, before ducking back under it again. He tried not to giggle, thinking he was slick at hiding.

When his mom didn't run at him trying to get paint across his nose, he jumped up on the kitchen counter and sat with his feet hanging over the edge. "What is that?"

"It is," She huffed, sitting back up in a normal position, "It is a place that me and your dad went." She looked around the room, analyzing her work. "Like the rest of them. All of these places I've actually been."

Wilbur gasped in awe, thinking of the hundreds of different paintings his mother had done.

"I'm really lucky to have your dad, he's such a helpless romantic." She smiled, her cheeks getting a bit red. "He likes to take me on our trips. Likes to show all his favorite places for adventures." She watched Wilbur, staring up at the ceiling, looking at the cloud scape she had painted.

"You went up in the clouds?!" He gasped.

"Yes I did! And he would take you too if I hadn't forbidden it."

"What?! Why?!" Wilbur was so surprised to think that his dad could actually do that.

She tucked more fluffy hair behind her ear. "Because I'm scared he would drop you."

"Uh-" Wilbur had his mouth agape, "Dad would never! He's the number ONE adventurer. He's too good."

His mother looked up at the ceiling, her eyes deep in memories. "Yeah. He's too good." She said breathlessly, before shaking out of her trance. "Ya know? I met dad while I was a traveling artist!"

"Wait, really?!" Wilbur couldn't believe how cool that was.

"Yes, really." She plopped a paintbrush into one of her water cups. "I actually painted our first date on our bedroom wall." She laughed as Wilbur scrambled to stand up, racing for her bedroom. "Wait- don't step on the paint!"

Wilbur ran upstairs to their bedroom, passing a confused Tommy and Techno who were busy carrying something downstairs together.

To the spot with the portrait of her.

The spot that was covered by dad's huge adventuring gear cabinet he had moved in front of it, later, after she was gone.

The painting was beautiful. It was an expanse of glowing stars, vibrant flowers and huge unreal mushrooms. But right in the middle was something that mom didn't really paint often.

It was people.

It was her and dad, beautifully painted in glowing purple light, encased in decorative flowers that they were laying down in. Mom was practically sitting on dad's lap, looking into his eyes like the entire world was right there. Mom was beautiful, with fantasy satyr legs and long fluffy hair just like Techno's and Wilbur's, flower crown on her head like she was a princess. Dad looked just as good, his wings tucked behind his back, him using them like he was protecting her from the world. Or maybe he was using it as a way for them to get some privacy.

Whatever the case, it was beautiful.

And now, Wilbur couldn't go look at it anymore.

Wilbur shook off the memory, instead focusing on the house that they were fast approaching. A house that was very different from the picture perfect sleepy village they had walked in on so far. For one part, it was crooked. It was leaning over, the entire building threatening to fall if it wasn't for a huge tree that went right up the middle of it, tree branches reaching out like hands and holding the second and third floor in place. It was made out of pale stripped wood that looked like it had been dyed to have a soft purple tint. Hanging from the wrap-around porch there was a swing, blankets and pillows spilling off. Soft clicks rang in the air as several assorted glass chimes left rainbow streaks on the ground as the light shone through them. Candles lined the railings in all sorts of shapes and designs, smoke softly drifting up into the fall sky. Wilbur wondered if it was a safety hazard.

All in all, this definitely felt like a place a dream interpreter would live.

Wilbur looked to Technoblade, to see what he thought of it.

He stood behind him, a long brown sweater coming over his hands as he shoved them in his pockets. To anybody else, he would just look like he was staring off into space. But Wilbur knew this look.

"Hey. There's nothing to be nervous about." Wilbur smiled, going and linking arms with him.

"I wasn't scared." Technoblade muttered, looking away.

Wilbur laughed, Philza just catching up to them from returning Allegro to the stable. "Of course not. Because you aren't allowed to feel emotions for some reason."

Philza stood next to Wilbur, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Are we ready?!" He tried to get them excited, unaware of his son's exchange.

Wilbur pulled Technoblade forward, excitement filling his footsteps.

"Of course we are!"

>{}<

The small room they were brought in was just as chaotic as the outside was.

Gentle music played from a jukebox in the corner, filling the room much like the sticks of incense that filled the air with colorful smoke. Streamers and crystals hung from the ceilings, and Philza had to duck under them when he first walked in.

Now, they were sitting on mountains of cushions on the ground, Wilbur absolutely loving every second to the left of him and Technoblade sitting stiff as a board to the right of him. The dream interpreter who had introduced herself as Dahila bustled around, running in and out of the room, clearly flustered.

"I-" She ran through the room, carrying a tray of tea, "I normally am more prepared! Normally, I know when people are coming, ya know, dreams and all." She slowed down for a second, setting the tray down on the colorful stained glass coffee table that sat low on the floor. "But you guys took me by surprise!"

Philza watched her bustle around, unsure of what she was exactly doing. Her beautiful intricate robe that was cinched at her waist fluttered with the steps she took, purple gems and crystals hanging loosely from every part of her outfit, from the cuffs of her huge sleeves from the tips of her giant circular glasses framed by her dreadlocks that were beautifully styled into a bun on her head.

"No-no!" Philza grabbed a cup, the tea hot in his hands. "It's totally fine. Sorry for dropping in and bothering you!"

Her earrings jiggled as she shook her head. "It's no problem! It's not everyday this sleepy village get's such a famous guest like you!"

Philza didn't really like when people pointed that out or made a big deal of it. For him, it was never about fame. It was always just doing what he loved. "So-" He tried changing the conversation, "How long have you been dream interpreting?"

She slowed down, finally stopping all her hustling about. "Well, practically all my life."

"Really!" Wilbur spoke up beside them, jumping into the conversation.

"Mhumm." She sat on the ground. "But recently I've been getting into some deity stuff as well. I've managed to crack the code on vision casting."

"Vision casting?" Philza asked.

"Yeah, uh," she tapped her long fingers on the glass table. "It's like inducing dreams in people, but I'm still able to see them. That way, I can interpret the dream without missing any details. You'd be surprised how much people leave out when they try to explain their dreams. Even the littlest detail can make a difference." She picked up her own drink, taking a sip before continuing, "And because the visions are induced by my deity, based on my own research and experimentation, I have found that I can give a percentage rate on the possible success rate. When I induce visions, the deity usually grants three. If we are to assume my interpretation is correct, which it almost always is, there is a 20 percent chance that all three of the visions come true, a 50 percent chance that two of the three come true, and a 90 percent chance that one will at least happen."

"Wow!" Wilbur leaned forward putting both hands on the table. "Can you give me visions?!"

Philza thought about it. This lady was impressive. The ability to consistently promise certain statistics for dream interpretation was not something that most dream interpreters did. And she had said that she had conducted that research herself. She seemed to have a different air of confidence, and he wondered why a dream interpreter such as herself was in this little small town and not in a bigger city making money.

Dahila spun her finger in her glass, mixing the swirling hot liquid. "No, I don't think so. Visions, they can get a bit intense. But your dad can do one if he wants."

This is what Philza had wanted. He wanted to get answers. But he hesitated. On one hand, he hated doing anything that got deities involved. It made him feel like he was being violated, like every second the creature was going to try to take his soul. On the other hand, this lady seemed very confident in her abilities. And he wanted any clues that could possibly lead him to some answers.

It was only a seconds hesitation before he answered. "Alright. Let's do it."

Dahila smiled, rubbing her hands together. "Yes! Let's get it all set up!"

>{}<

"Drink this." Dahila said, gently placing one of three cups into his hand.

She had brought them into a different room, leaving the boys in the other room to play with some crystals she had put on the table. It made him a bit worried, but he had agreed if he saw anything troubling, he didn't want them in the room.

"Vision's can get a bit traumatic very fast. While you are dreaming, every thing you see is coated in a fog, your brain forgets most of the horror when you wake up. To most people, it looks as if it was just a distant memory instead of something you vividly saw in your head. Visions on the other hand are a lot less forgiving. It's as if they are actually happening, and you yourself are much more aware. It's not often that I don't get at least one vision that sends a client screaming. But good news is! Whatever traumatic thing you go through I will also be seeing as well! We will be traumatized together." 

The comment hadn't made him much more confident in his decision. 

Dahila had blown out the lanterns and closed the window curtains, leaving the only light as the candles in glass jars. Smoke hung in the air, smells of burning flowers and sweet vanilla. Philza sat on a long mat on the floor, the mat that he was supposed to lay on as soon as he started to feel tired. He ran over the instructions in his head, thinking of what he was supposed to do.

"First, you'll drink the vision juice. That's not the name, but the name is way too complicated and I can't pronounce it. This is a concoction that I make that is super hard and takes forever, but I've been practicing! I'm sure this batch is perfect. I've only made it wrong a couple of times, and so far only one person has had long term side effects. But that was a while ago! At least half a year ago!"

"Then, you'll lay down. You'll start to feel a pressure in your head, and you will feel compelled to close your eyes. Don't resist. The potion is really easy to resist. Just go to sleep. I don't have enough potion to waste on using it on one person multiple times."

"Then, you'll fall into the vision. I'll be able to see it, so don't worry. Remember, it's just a vision. But still react how you think you'd react in a dream. If the first vision is too much, we can stop after the first one. You have to wake up in between drinks, and I have to re-organize the ritual. If you don't think you can handle it anymore, you can stop right then. But if not, you'll drink the next cup and we will continue."

Philza looked up at Dahila's excited face, excepting the drink. She was too eager to see inside his head for his tastes, her spellbook and crystal ball on the floor for the incantation, and her clipboard in her off hand to take notes of his experience in. He brought it to his lips, the liquid warm and bitter, like salted fruit. As Dehila excitedly clapped her hands and sat down imbetween her set up, he laid down, wings sprawled out, a humming happening in the back of his head.

Dehila started chanting, the magical book floating off the ground and resting about eye level as she read off the lines of ancient text.

The pressure.

Her chanting was soft but unearthly, like a demented lullaby. 

His eyes were so heavy.

He closed them, falling asleep to the soft chanting of the dream interpreter.

>{}<

Philza felt his feet land on the ground.

Where was he?

Echo's of his foot falls bounced off of walls that weren't even there, the quiet shifting of his feet in the thin pool of rippling water growing louder and louder as it traveled into the open black air. 

He was in black inky darkness, nothing but the water pooling on the ground for as far as he could see.

He breathed a deep breath, calming himself.

It was just a dream.

He was just in a vision.

The darkness seemed to swallow him up, black mist rolling off the top of the glass like water, making it hard to even see his own body.

In the background, he thought he heard the soft chanting of Dahila. 

What was supposed to happen?

He started walking, walking away from the fog. 

He knew it was bad.

He didn't want it to suffocate him. 

He tentatively looked around, ready to bump into anything at any moment. Every part of his body burned in anticipation. 

Then, he saw it.

A light.

A light at the end of the hall.

Philza looked to it, his head snapping to the only other visible thing in the darkness. 

It glowed a brilliant golden light, pulsating like a beating heart, the shimmering reflecting off the small ripples in the ground.

Curious, Philza walked closer.

And it got farther away.

The light, it was so warm. It was comforting.

He needed it.

He didn't know how he knew, but he needed it. It was one of those irrational feelings, a feeling you can't explain but can't help but be dragged around by, no matter how much it hurt you.

He started to walk closer, and it only got farther away. 

Smoke closed in behind him. 

He started to jog, the fog creeping in on his ankles, an irrational fear rising into his throat. 

He couldn't reach it.

He couldn't reach it.

The chanting got louder, like the beat of his heart.

He felt the stinging as the smoke grabbed his ankles, tripping him as he fell, water splashing into his face. 

No no no no no-

He turned on his back, droplets flinging from his wings, kicking away at the smoke that had his feet. 

He needed-

The light-

He couldn't get his legs free. But he kept fighting. 

He kept fighting. 

>{}<

Philza woke up slowly, rubbing his eyes. His body woke up with slow grogginess that only comes after a deep sleep.

"What-"

Dahila was still sat across from him on the floor as he lifted himself up into a sitting position. He blinked the sleep from his head, watching her sit there, her lips still moving, but no more noise escaping.

Her eyes were glowing.

It was a slight purple light, enough that you couldn't see which direction she was looking. She sat perfectly straight, one hand held out holding up a book with magic that floated just above her palm as the pages flipped through the heavy tome. Her other hand was rested on a crystal ball to her right, her fingers tapping it slowly.

"Dahila?"

Her lips parted silently as they stopped the incantiation, smoke spilling out in spirals. Her voice echoed through the room, like it was coming from all around him.

"You search-" her voice hissed, an air of ethereal power to it. "And you search, but in the end, you will hold nothing." She gasped, tilting her head back, the light pulsing one last time before it went out.

Philza felt cold creep over his shoulders.

He knew what she meant by that.

But he didn't want to believe it.

There was-

There was a chance what he was thinking wasn't true.

But he knew-

He knew-

He let out a shuttery breath as Dahila looked around the room, shaking off the daze of being possessed.

"You good?" She asked, looking at him.

"Yea- Yeah I'm good." He sat all the way up, eye level with her.

"Alrighty then! A successful first trip!" She clapped her hands, before grabbing the clipboard from the ground. "On a scale to one to ten, how traumatic was that experience? Did anything particularly stick out to you? Do you feel any deity interference? At any point did your body feel like it was about to be possessed? And most importantly, do you have any idea what my translation might mean? Do you think it was a good translation? What are your thoughts?"

"Uhhh-" Philza stuttered, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of questions. "I think- I think it was a pretty good vision." 

"Really?" 

"Trauma scale, maybe like a three out of ten?"

"Mhumm." She nodded vigorously, taking down notes with a quill. 

"And uh- interpretation." He stopped. "Uh. Yeah. It- it's an interpretation all right." 

She studied his face, eyebrows scrunched in concern before scribbling a couple more lines down. "Just remember, not all interpretations are going to come true. It also can mean something you wouldn't think about until after the predicted event is all done and over with. Things are- Things are a bit funky with visions. And don't forget the percentages! One vision, 90% chance!"

"I'm good. I just-" He sighed, rubbing his head. "I knew exactly what this was talking about."

"Oh. Well, that's rare!" She stood up, going back over to the counter to grab the second drink. "Care to explain? I'm a bit curious by nature." 

"I uh- I just lost somebody important to me. I think that's what it was talking about." 

Dahila stopped walking, her eyes wide. "Oh my gods I'm so sorry! How insensitive of me! I should've-"

"No no-" Philza stopped her mid-sentance. "Don't feel bad. I've had time to come to terms with it I guess." 

Dahila bit her lip, shifting her weight as she rested a hand on her hip with the drink in the other. "Well, I'm sorry anyways. Are you sure you want to continue?"

Philza thought about it.

It wasn't that bad....

The vision wasn't traumatizing...

I had wanted to know things about her...

I had gotten my answer...

But it only has a chance of being true...

"Yeah. I'll take the next one."

She grabbed the cup, sitting down again and holding her hands out to take it.

"Alright. Let the second vision begin."

>{}<

Philza took a sip of the second drink, this time tasting sweet like sugar cookies. He readied himself, laying down and closing his eyes.

But nothing happened.

Curious, he opened his eyes and watched the dream interpreter sit across from him, eyes closed in concentration.

Did he resist?

Did he mess up the second vision?

He tried to sit up, but found he couldn't. Panicked, he looked around to what was holding him down.

His wings.

His wings were tied to the ground.

He thrashed them about, trying to get the ropes off. But no matter how hard he pulled, they stayed fastened into place.

"Help!" He turned to Dahila, who now had her eyes open, watching him struggle. "Help me!"

Dahila stood up slowly, the trinkets on her robe jingling. Her head disappeared into the smoke that hung in the air. She turned, grabbing something from the counter. 

An axe now in her hand.

"Cut me loose!"

Dahila walked up to him, standing by him with bare feet. It was like she didn't realize what was happening- like she couldn't hear him.

"I'll cut you loose." She hummed, bending over so he could clearly see her cold, expressionless face.

Fear rose in his throat. Struggling, he tried to get loose. He couldn't-

He was stuck.

Dahila rose the axe

Wait wait wait wait-

She smiled, her glasses reflecting the glint of the candle light-

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT-

She brought the axe down, cutting through his wings.

"WAIT!"

Philza shot up, clutching his chest and breathing heavy.

He was no longer stuck.

He flapped his wings, still feeling them attached on his body.

It had been the second vision-

It had been a dream-

His heart raced.

He looked across at Dahila who was sitting crisscross in front of him, not moving.

She had a hand out holding the book, another on the crystal ball. Smoke came from her mouth, her metallic voice ringing out like before. "You will be stuck- stuck in a situation you can't escape. You will be entirely dependent on a circumstance that you will have no ability to control."

Philza shuddered, thinking of the pure panic he had felt when she had, in the vision, cut off his wings.

The dream interpreter's eyes stopped glowing. Dahila coughed into her hand, smoke rising from the corners of her lips.

"That one was a bit more- uhhh-"

Philza could still feel the fear of being unable to move. "Yeah-"

She sat, letting both of them take some breaths to calm down before she spoke again. "Alright. Alright. Next set of questions, if you don't mind. First, did it hurt?" She set the book down in her lap, turning to grab her clipboard. 

"What?"

"Did it hurt?" Dahila sighed, standing up. "Sometimes people can feel the pain in the visions, sometimes they can't. I need to know for research purposes."

Philza thought back. "No, no I didn't. It was just- it was just a bit much."

"I bet. See, I told you at least one of the visions get's a scream from most of my clients. Alright, more questions. At any point did you see my deity? Did you feel any outside presence? Did anything enter your mind while you were in a vulnerable state?" 

Philza didn't particularly like these questions. "Uh... no. I don't believe so." 

She nodded, tongue sticking out slightly as she focused on her writings. "Mmmmmm."

"So..."

"Alright. I think that's enough questions for the second vision. I'll probably ask more questions once everything is said and done." Grabbing the third drink, she sat back down in front of him. "You sure you wanna do the last one? It's not too late to pull out, plus, the data you've been giving me already has been great!"

Philza knew he had to see the last one. He was this far in. He needed to finish it out. Even though everything in his body was screaming for him not to. 

What he could learn... it would all be worth it. Both visions had been big. The first one, about her. The last one, about him. Both of them bad. If he could just have a leg up, if he could just have some information, he could help prevent anything bad in his future. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He knew in the bottom of his heart that it would be foolish for him to waste it. He didn't want to keep going, but he needed to keep going. 

"Let's do it."

>{}<

Philza once again was back in the dark black emptiness. But this time was different. His nose was filled with cold stinging air, his breath floating out of his mouth in the freezing temperatures.

A voice whispered in his head, different than the chanting of the dream interpreter. A voice that was colder than the air around him. A voice that wasn't human.

Cause of death: sacrifice.

It was as if flood lights turned on, revealing the stage set before him.

It was grotesque, a hideous display of blood and flayed flesh.

The room was coated in a layer of frost, the walls crafted of glowing blue crystals, a hole in the ceiling filtering golden light and flakes of snow in from the sunny outside, illuminating the room. Huge, stone statues sat inside the walls, humanoid like beings crafted to look like gods. They surrounded the room, creating a circle around the middle of the room. Beauty like no other framed the terrible scene on the floor.

There was a man, hung up by crystal ice chains, his body limply being only supported by his wrists. His pink hair fell over his face, blood dripping from his mouth. A red cape fell over one shoulder, tattered and draping on the floor, hanging on by a thread. His hands were coated in beautiful snowflakes, fingertips blue and frostbite of purple snaking up his arm like somebody dipped it in paint. A crown tipped off his head, barely hanging on. Philza, in horror of what he was seeing, walked closer, his feet resisting his movements. He looked down to see what was so sticky.

A ring of blood had been made around the man in the room, spell runes painted with blood from his wounds.

Philza walked up closer, hands shaking.

It was a dream it was a dream it was a dream-

He heard a weak, gasping breath.

This man... he was familiar.

Philza walked closer and bent slightly to see his face, looking at the blue lips that shuttered as weak little puffs of air came from his mouth. Veins of blue poison webbed up his neck, wrapping around his eyes that were coated over like fogged over glass. Dried blood was crusted across his face, like he had been there suffering for a long time.

Philza knew him.

Philza felt the entire world shatter, his entire head going blank.

He knew him.

Knew the face.

Knew him-

No.

No.

No.

It couldn't-

"D-dad?" The weak voice asked, his blind eyes lifting as he tried to tilt his chin up.

"Technoblade?''

NONONONONONONONONONO-

Philza cried in horror, putting his warm fingers on his son's face, the cold biting at his skin. He shuddered.

He felt so dead. The skin under his fingers didn't feel alive. But it was him. It was him.

No.

This couldn't be the same Technoblade that was sitting just outside the room for him.

No.

This couldn't be the same Techno who sat in the garden with his wife, talking to plants like they could hear them.

No.

This wasn't the same techno who was so excited to go on trips with him.

It couldn't be his son-

But it was.

It was him.

Older, in pain, dying. It was him.

Philza felt pain that he had never felt before. It felt

He couldn't-

Philza leaned in, hugging him, sobbing.

No.

No.

He had grown up so- so beautifully.

To die-

Philza tried to take the weight off of Technoblade, tried to help him, but nothing helped as Techno shivered in pure agony.

"D-dad-

The dream changes.

The voice whispers in his ear.

Cause of death: stabbing.

Philza shook. He couldn't do this. Techno- Techno-

Philza couldn't think as the flood lights turned on, this time a different man standing in a pile of rubble, hands lifted out a bit, palms up. A sword pierced his chest, blood running from his shirt and eyes.

After seeing his first son, Philza knew immediately who this was.

Philza sobbed, running up to Wilbur, hands running over the sword in his chest, wondering how he could help him.

Wilbur was stood in place wearing a dark cloak and a black beanie. He wore glasses, floofy hair swooped to one side. He was so- he was so grown up.

His skin was turning grey in front of his eyes.

He realized with horror that the sword was his- the one that was sticking from his chest.

Wilbur was smiling.

His dead eyes opened, black eyes dripping trails of blood. His head lulled to one side, looking straight into Philza's soul.

"Th- thank you."

The world spun again.

Death: heartbreak

Philza couldn't do it anymore.

Let me out let me out let me out-

The lights turned on again, this time producing a different scene.

A young man with beautiful wings hung from the ceiling, rope wrapped around his neck, chair kicked out from under his feet.

Tommy-

Philza closed his eyes.

Let it be over let it be over let it be over-

The world spun again.

Death: president's curse

Tubbo sat on his knees, a shadow behind him, only the hand visible that was holding a crossbow to Tubbo's head.

Tubbo-

He had grown up-

Tubbo wore a white dress shirt and red tie, face covered in cuts and scratches, the sleeves of his arms torn up like they had been shredded. Blood was splattered all over the front of his clothes.

His hands were tied behind his back.

He was being held hostage-

Tubbo made eye contact with him, his expression hurting Philza more than any weapon could ever.

"Help-"

The crossbow let off with a bang.

Philza wretched up from the floor, his body shaking in horror. Panic screamed in his head, every part of his body burned with sorrow. He sat there. He couldn't see. He couldn't see. All he could see were his children's deaths playing again and again in his head. He couldn't think. All he heard was the thumping of his heart and the echoes of his children's last words.

Horrified, he couldn't move. He curled up on the ground, his entire body shaking. He felt sick. He couldn't-

Around him, he heard Dahila gag, retching from absolute disgust of what she saw. What she had just felt. 

He could still feel Technoblade's cold dead skin under his fingers. Feel the hilt of his sword shoved in Wilbur's chest. The terror and he realized his son's feet were hanging off the ground. He could feel the splatters of blood, the brains of his youngest splattering all down the front of his body.

He couldn't move. All he could do was sit there.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-

When he felt a brush on his arm, his entire body jolted like he had just been dunked in freezing ice water.

It was Dahila.

He looked up, black in the corners of his vision. His head swam. He couldn't-

Dahila's eyes were wide and red, her face frozen in shock. She put both hands on his face, making him look in her eyes, her lip quivering before pulling him into a hug. Philza couldn't move- he couldn't move.

He couldn't believe-

He closed his eyes, clinging onto her. She had seen. She had seen the horror-

Philza couldn't breathe-

His body grew numb, his vision went dark.

He couldn't-

>{}<

Wilbur wondered what was taking them so long.

He happily sat on the ground, playing with the crystals Dahila had given him, making little structures out of them.

Technoblade couldn't sit, instead he walked around the room with his hands behind his back, scared to touch and break anything. But still he curiously looked at each and every one of her candles, as if observing it for any and every possible bit of magic.

"Find anything magical yet?" Wilbur stuck out his tongue in concentration, balancing a risky piece of crystal the highest he had yet.

Technoblade didn't answer, instead coming and sitting right next to him, shaking the table and knocking over his tower.

"Hey!" Wilbur pushed him gently, annoyed.

"Somethings wrong. It's been too long. How long have we been waiting?" Technoblade muttered under his breath, his expression serious.

"I don't know? What is it? What's wrong?"

"I- I don't know."

>{}<

It had to have been hours later.

It had to have been.

Because time didn't feel real.

He was so numb. He sat across from Dahila who had wrapped them both up in blankets. They had just sat. Sat for so long. Thinking. His eyes were red, his voice was shot. He hurt, so bad.

Dahila's weak voice was the first to break the silence between them.

"It's not-" She shook. "It's not a hundred percent that that'll come true."

Philza couldn't speak. His voice wouldn't work. He couldn't think about anything else other than his children. His older, beautiful, dying children.

"And- and you had two visions- b-before that too." She gripped a glass of alcohol, one of two she had brought down from the cupboard, the liquid sloshing gently in the cup.

"So the chance of that happening, the last one- they- they go down."

She stared at him. She couldn't believe what she had just seen. She had never had three visions back to back so intense. She had played off the first two as harmless, trying to keep the mood light. But in reality she had thought that off from the get go after that first vision that these were going to be a bit intense. She was even numb from the exposure- she had seen terrible visions before. But these ones had gotten to her. The fear, the sorrow, the pure almost instinctual terror- she had felt it with him. Her stomach was empty, and she unsteadily stood up to go grab her emergency chocolates from her cupboard as well. She needed some comfort food.

"And- and now that we know- now that we know what is going to happen- we can try to stop it. That's the good thing about visions. That's the whole point. I'm here to help."

She opened the box, popping a couple in her mouth before sitting back next to Philza. He couldn't meet her eyes, instead just accepting her food graciously, washing it down with his drink as well. 

"So- so let's talk about how we can stop it."

Philza took a shallow breath. "Is- with-"

Dahila waited for him to talk, almost crying again at his broken voice.

"If the last one- if it- if one happens, will all four of them happen?"

Dahila didn't want to answer that. She really wanted to just tell him no. That the last one had been four separate visions. Philza had told her about his children when they were talking small talk, gushing about all of them so vividly that she could practically identify who was who in the vision she had seen. She wanted so desperately to tell him that the chances were in his favor. But she couldn't. But she could try to soften it, so she did, even if it was a bit of a stretch. "P-probably. Maybe- maybe the last one is four separate visions. But the chances of that-"

He closed his eyes, softly banging his closed fist on his forehead.

"But we can stop it."

Philza looked up at her voice, face flushed red from crying. He gripped his drink, his knuckles white. "H-how?"

"Well, we-" she said softly, "We can either increase the chances of the first two things happening. Then that would lower the chances of the third one. Or- or we can try to remove elements of the third vision that might affect the futures that you saw."

Philza laughed, hysterically. "How-well, we already know that the first one's probably true." He said, with a twinge of sarcastic bitterness.

"That's- that's good. That's a good thing." She said, taking another sip from her glass. "I feel that it'll be hard to predict or change the second vision. It seems like something that'll happen to you and not you causing it." She waited for him to speak, but he just looked dazedly through her. "So, what's left is to remove elements of the third one. Hopefully, if we can just stop one, it will stop all the others. So-"

"Well, at least- at least I have time."

Dahila thought back to the visions. Yeah. He did have a bit of time. He could figure it out.

"Yes. You do. At least a couple years before they get to be that old." She nervously played with her blanket.

She did her best to think of what she could do. Her voice didn't work. She didn't know what she could possibly say for what he had just seen. She had delt with predicting deaths before and having to break the news, but never had she read three so dreary visions back to back to back. Such violent deaths. 

The world was unforgiving. People in this dangerous overworld died every day, whether to be to accidents, to wars, or to mobs. But to have all four ripped from him, in such drastic ways- 

Feeling useless, she grabbed the clipboard and quill and tried to write down everything she could think of that would help.

The first one. Keep him away from ice biomes. Keep him away from cults. And specifically those statues.

The second one. Throw away that sword. Get rid of it. 

Third one. You should- just do tons of check ups on him. When he gets to be around that age, don't leave him on his own.

Fourth. It specifically said presidents curse? Don't let him become a president for anything.

Fifth. My deity specifically intervened with the last vision. We have no idea why. I suggest you don't speak much about the visions, for we don't know if she want's to keep things confidential. I've had it once where she specifically messed with visions and got mad that the client spoke of it later, so I would try to keep this as under wraps as possible. Normal visions don't need this, otherwise I would have told you. But the last vision wasn't normal.

She didn't have the heart to say these things aloud, instead tearing the piece of paper out and sliding it across the table. When he didn't look up, she grabbed both of his clammy, shaking hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "There is one more thing that I can say that can possibly ease your mind."

Philza looked up at her, desperate.

"My deity- my deity that I allow to possess me is not a dream demon like you might've thought. It's a demon of chance. It likes it's odds, it's games. The things you've seen are not a hundred percent. And the fact that she showed you three really bad chances one right after the other- and the fact that she spoke in the last one- there's a chance that it's probably not going to come true." She was grasping at straws. "She's probably playing with you because of your reputation. Your fame. It's- it might even be possible that none of them come true. Because- in the end- it's all a game of chance."

Philza tried to smile up at her, but it just looked like a pained grimace. He appreciated her trying. But he could see through it. He pulled his hands back. Taking another drink, muttering it like a somber toast, he brought the cup to his lips and repeated her last words, like he was trying to convince himself that he wasn't already doomed.

"It's just a game of chance."


	23. Memories

In the void, there was tons of time to waste and a giant black abyss to stare into. Philza had been doing a lot of thinking in between his research of the abandoned towers, magic practice, and hanging out with Rutha. Sitting at the edge of the island, he let his legs hang off the side of the dusty yellow cliffs, swinging gently. He hadn't been able to sleep, the last memory of the terrible visions he had all those years ago playing over and over in his head. He had been thinking about it a lot. The visions had been hanging over his head like a ticking bomb. But now, sitting here in the darkness, he realized that two out of the three had already come true. He hadn't been able to escape them. 

The first one, that one had come true a long time ago. And the second one-

He was living it right now.

Despite the endless prison he was trapped in, Philza counted himself lucky.

If two out of the three visions came true, the chances of the third one happening decreased.

He laid down on his back, smiling sadly as Rutha flew over his head.

He missed his kids so fucking much.

He closed his eyes, the darkness behind his eyelids no different then the darkness of the sky above. 

The only way he could escape was through his head. 

The only way he could see them was through his memories. 

So, his eyes closed, he allowed himself to drift off to a time where he was actually happy. 

A time where they had been together.

>{}<

The steel sword that Techno had stolen from his father's room felt natural in his hands, like it was second nature. He had carried the gear he had taken and went out into the forest, the early morning sunrise peeking through the trees, beams of light reflecting off the river he was practicing by. Birds swooped in the canopy of lush trees, the sounds of running water covering up the sounds of the sword cutting the air as Techno swung it, practicing getting a grip on it's balance.

Something about it invigorated him. It's like something had been woken up inside him.

He practiced a good while, throwing everything he had into it. He swung, stepped, pretended to dodge and defend himself against invisible enemies. He practiced until he started to sweat, until the sun fully emerged from behind the earth.

"You're swinging it wrong."

Technoblade's heart stopped.

He swung around, looking to the voice up in the trees.

Philza sat smiling at his son. Philza had noticed that Techno was escaping every morning and today had been the day that he had flown after him. Perched up on a sturdy branch, he had watched with pride as Techno had practiced. But he could only watch his shoddy form for so long.

He jumped down from the tree, wings catching his fall. He walked up to his son, who was standing there in disbelief.

"You got to stand more like this," Philza spread his feet apart, before grabbing Techno's shoulders and helping him get into the stance.

"Yeah. Yeah like that."

Technoblade didn't say anything, instead listening intently to what he was saying.

"And you're swinging it like you're trying to poke people. You aren't trying to poke people. This isn't a rapier." Philza wrapped his hand around Techno's, swinging his arm slowly in the correct motion. "You'll want to swing your sword like that."

"Like this?" He mumbled, swinging it again.

"Yes! That's better." Philza smiled down at him, "You're practically a natural!"

His son looked away embarrassed. "So- so you aren't mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"I took your stuff?"

Philza sighed, ruffling his hair. "You don't need to worry about me getting mad about that. It's just old gear I don't use. Trust me, I have better stuff." Philza grabbed Techno's glasses off his face. "But what you CAN bet I'm mad at is how dirty you let these get." He laughed, wiping them off with his shirt. "Jesus Christ how do you even see?"

"So you're not worried about me hurting myself?"

Philza handed his glasses back to him, now clean. "Of course I'm worried. But I'm always worried, it's my job. But that doesn't mean that some things are not worth the risk. Who am I to stop you? Fighting... It's in our blood."

"Oh."

Philza laughed, amused by his reaction. "Oh indeed. Well, do you want me to help you practice more?"

"Really?"

"Yup!" Philza reached to his waist and grabbed his own personal sword. "Let's start off by seeing what your natural instincts are. Common! Swing at me with all you got!"

"Wait-" Technoblade panicked, not liking being put on the spot.

"It's fine!" Philza grinned, stepping into a defense position. "Do you really think you can hurt me?"

"No- I-"

"Then swing with all you got."

Technoblade took a breath. Then, letting the intoxication feeling of the blade in his hand pump him up, he smiled, excited to have an real opponent for the first time instead of the mobs in his own imagination.

"You're going to regret saying that."

>{}<

Warm smells of cooking broth filled the house, an enchanting smell that Philza and Techno had been working hard to make. Philza wiped his hands off on a towel, finishing up as Techno decided to do dishes. The soup had to marinate for a bit, but dinner would be ready soon. Philza went to go round up the children, who were probably running wild outside. Walking out of the room, Philza was blocked by Wilbur sitting in the hallway, looking at the wall.

"Uhh-" Philza stood over him, "You okay there bud?"

Wilbur was wearing his big brown sweater and white ankle socks, guitar sitting in his lap.

"Yeah." He said, looking away from the wall. I was just looking at some of Mom's paintings."

Oh.

Philza sat down by his son, wrapping his arm over his shoulder as he looked forward to the paintings. It was a beautiful scene of mountains, a place that brought back memories for him.

"They're really pretty, aren't they?"

Wilbur didn't say anything back, instead leaning over his guitar to touch the painting with his hands.

Running his fingers over the paint, Philza winced as he remembered his wife doing the same, lovingly putting time and effort into every detail. He looked so much like her.

"I want to create something as pretty as this." Wilbur whispered, touching the peak of mountains and clouds that floated in the painted sky. "I want to play something so beautiful that she would be proud."

Philza's heart melted. "She- she would already be proud of you." He rubbed his son's back, trying his best to help.

"You think?"

"I know so."

Wilbur looked up at Philza, his eyes watery.

"How about you play something for me? You've been practicing so hard."

Wilbur looked away, a bit embarrassed. "Su- sure."

He took a deep breath, steading his hands before he strummed a soft chord, quiet music soon filling the hallways of the house, the house with walls painted with memories of the lost.

>{}<

Philza had been happy with how Tommy was being so gentle around Toby.

First he had been really worried, worried that his little ball of energy and destruction would only scare Toby, but it seemed that Tommy was putting his energy into a different direction.

He was putting all his energy into protecting Toby.

Maybe it was because the twins were always way closer than Tommy ever was, but whatever the case may be Tommy had become very protective over him, playing with him all day and following him around even when he had to sit through lessons with Wilbur that Philza sat and watched to make sure they were going alright.

From what he could tell, Toby was not a dumb kid.

After getting over the initial shock of what had happened and being healed a bit, after a week Toby had really started to show who he really was. He could follow conversations, understand what they were saying, and get his point across pretty well without talking. Wilbur was trying his best to fix that problem with Philza's help, but it seemed to be something other than just not knowing.

It seemed to Philza that Toby was embarrassed that he couldn't talk correctly, so he just didn't try.

Same with reading. He would stare at a sheet of paper, getting all flustered because he knew that everybody else could read it; he was the only one who couldn't. So he often just had Tommy read it out loud to him, even though Philza had said that Tommy should stop it so that he could learn himself.

Oh well. He would learn eventually. Just like he would learn to talk. After all, it had only been four months.

One word he did know how to say was their names. He had gotten them down pretty fast, first his own name, him affectionately calling him "Dadza." Then he learned Tommy, then "Wilby" and then "T." He had a bit of trouble saying Technoblade's full name, which was understandable. It was the only thing he would say, other than little "hey's!" whenever he couldn't get somebody's attention. To a normal person, he would just seem like a quiet kid. Philza couldn't be happier.

Wilbur was currently reading a book to Toby, pointing out words as he went along. Toby sat contently in his lap, eyes trying to track his movement. Tommy, on the other hand, laid on the ground with his legs up against the wall, throwing something he had up and down and playing catch with it. You could tell he was bored out of his mind, but he waited for them to finish.

It was cute.

"Commmmoonnnnn Wilbur- you've been reading for agessssss." He grumbled, throwing his thing up in the air. "It's going to be dark soon. And you knoowwww we can't go out after dark. That's when all the zombies come out."

Wilbur didn't answer him, instead glaring at him as he continued to read the words on the page.

"Wilbbbbbbuuuurrrrrrrr-"

"Don't listen to him Toby let's just finish this page." Wilbur whispered under his breath in between paragraphs.

"Common Toby. You don't want to do this." Tommy flipped over on his stomach, taking his legs off the wall. "You want to go play with me."

"Tommy- I'm almost done. Just let me finish-" Wilbur hissed.

"Noooooooo," He made puppy dog eyes at Wilbur. "You've taken too long. It's my turn to steal Toby."

Wilbur turned to Philza, looking for help.

"You have been reading longer than you said you were." He said flatly.

Wilbur rolled his eyes, throwing the book beside him. "Fine. I'll just go spend some time with Techno. At least he appreciates reading."

"Hell yeah!" Tommy scrambled up, going and grabbing Toby's hand. "I have something to show you that I found."

Toby smiled up at him as he dragged him out of the room and to the outdoors. Philza watched them go, standing up and picking up the book Wilbur had thrown to the side, placing a bookmark and gently putting it back on the shelf.

>{}<

Toby was sorta sad that Tommy had stopped Wilbur early. He really liked that book. He couldn't read it properly, the words just didn't look right to him, so he was more than happy to listen to Wilbur's gentle reading voice and storytelling. But Tommy was excited, so he was excited.

"Tommy!" Toby squeaked, getting pulled forward too fast. 

"Sorry-" Tommy apologized, before slowing down. Tommy gently led him forward, his grip light, always careful of how he touched him after the first time he had learned about how Toby reacted to sudden movements. He tried really hard to remember to be gentle, and he got it most of the time. Just- sometimes.... he just got too excited. 

Toby looked as he was led outside, the brilliant outdoors becoming more and more normal to him after being rescued from the Nether.

Toby couldn't remember most of it.

Toby had managed to communicate with Dadza with a series of hand gestures and interpretation from Tommy, but he had managed to ask why his memory of the Nether was really foggy.

"Well... when people, particularly young children, go through something traumatic, their brains try to block out those memories, and sometimes -and this is pretty cool- sometimes their brains even create different personalities for them as defense mechanisms that can have different memories, stimulate different parts of the brain, and can control the body at different times." Philza had said, confusing Toby. He had only known what some of those words meant, but it was such a hassle to ask him in the first place so Toby just let him continue talking. "Could also be the toxins down there. Everything in the Nether is practically poisonous, the air you were breathing for who knows how long causes severe side effects for normal people who are exposed for extended amounts of time."

Tommy had looked up at Philza, mouth open.

"I can freaking talk and I didn't understand half of that."

"Uhh-" Philza realized, toning in back, "Your head blocks bad memories sometimes. Also, bad Nether air messes with you. There- is that better?"

Toby looked back at Dadza who was standing on the back porch, watching Tommy and Toby disappear into the forest.

"Be home before dark!" He yelled after them.

"Yeah! Yeah!" Tommy yelled over his shoulder, not even looking back. "We know!"

Philza smiled, walking forward and leaning on the garden fence, watching the two boys disappear into the thick trees.

"Don't get into any trouble." He mumbled under his breath, the sun warming his face.

Don't get into any trouble.

>{}<

Philza could only disappear into his thoughts for so long. The memories were a thing that both held him together and tore him apart, but whenever it got too bad he just had to keep moving. Had to keep doing things, even if he was stuck in a practically empty waste land like this.

Well, if he wasn't going to sleep he might as well get the crazy plan in action.

He was going to see if he could get Rutha to teach him magic.

Philza had vowed never to use untamed magic. He had heard the stories. Heard the terrible things that happened to people who used magic without a conduit like a staff, scroll, or spell. But Philza didn't feel like what he was trying to do was untamed magic. It had-

It had felt so natural.

Granted, teleporting hurt like hell and sure as did feel like he was being torn apart, but when it was all said in done he didn't feel like he had done anything wrong. Nothing was wrong with the magic he was doing. It was only his body that was wrong.

Maybe Philza was going insane.

But if he wasn't going to try magic, how was he supposed to pass the time? Plus, he had other reasons for wanting to be stronger.

He was determined to stop the third vision.

That's what his trips had turned into. Sure, part of it was still about trying to find their mother. But it had also evolved into something else. A search for a power that would save his family from anything.

Maybe he had been given the opportunity right now.

Sighing, Philza dropped his sword and bag, and got ready to teleport.

Hands pressed together, Philza practiced visualizing teleporting.

He remembered the first time doing this, feeling so ridiculous when he just did what he thought felt right.

But he had felt a power he had never felt before.

Philza had never believed that he had any specific magic. He thought he had just body enhancements, physical changes like his wings. But maybe the reason nobody knew about his magic was because nobody knew that this place even existed. Or maybe if they did, but they were trapped here, like him.

Philza was trying to go the farthest he had ever tried. He was standing at the base of one of the black towers, and he was trying to teleport to the other one directly to the left. He focused hard on the place he was trying to go, imagining the exact spot in his mind. Then, he pulled his hands apart, the feeling of his body ripping apart following as he was pulled into darkness.

It hurt. But it was tolerable now. And he was only gone for a second.

Philza opened his eyes, stumbling as he landed, trying to catch his balance.

But he did it.

That was the farthest he had ever teleported.

Smiling in victory, Philza looked to the sky as Rutha flew above him, coming to check up on him. Rutha had started to do that more often as well, especially when he practiced magic.

"You see that!" He yelled up at her, hands cupped around his mouth. "Farthest I've gone!"

Rutha roared in response, not knowing what he was saying but happy he was making noises at her. She glided down, landing by the altar and scaring the few endermen that were around.

Philza walked up to her, making sure to keep his distance. Every time he was allowed to be a bit closer without her getting agitated, but he didn't want to push his luck.

Now that Philza was getting more in tune with his magic, he had started to be able to feel the magic that was radiating off of Rutha.

And boy was she powerful.

If they shared the same power source- if they both shared to common link of the void-

Philza wondered what it would take to tap into that power.

"Hey. How ya doing?" Philza sat on the ground a good distance away from her.

Rutha didn't respond, instead eyeing some endermen suspiciously. She had a habit of attacking them out of the blue, and Philza didn't want to come between them.

Philza was sure that Rutha was smart. Really smart for a beast. But he hadn't been able to communicate any other way than just what would be typical between like a human and a dog. She got excited to hear his voice, or when he got excited, but beyond basic body gestures such as pointing to something or yelling at her she didn't really show any cognitive recognition of what he was trying to convey. But it didn't stop Philza from trying.

"You hungry? Did you eat yet?"

No response. But Philza noticed she didn't back down from staring the endermen down.

"Want me to get him for you?"

Rutha growled, a deep grumble in her throat.

"Don't worry, I'll get him."

Philza stood up, drawing his sword. He was about to rush the endermen when he heard Rutha open her mouth. Just in time he flew out of the way to avoid the powerful magic that she projected from her roar, exploding the ground and the endermen around it.

"That wasn't necessary." Philza landed, the ground now littered with debris.

Rutha grumbled, before turning around. Philza had to duck under her tail so he didn't get hit. She stalked forward, in a prancing position. Before jumping on another endermen, catching it in between her jaws and it dying with a screech.

"Are you trying to blow out my eardrums?"

Rutha turned and bounded around, before dropping the corpse at Philza's feet.

"-Thanks."

Rutha made a noise that sounded kind of like a gruff, like a dog holding in a bark. She turned before killing another, this time just swallowing it whole. Philza watched as she finished the meal in under a minute, before she turned to attack more. But first she looked back at Philza to see if he was eating.

"Dude. I'm not going to eat that."

Rutha continued on, and Philza could feel her charging up her magic again. She let off another burst of magical energy, killing more endermen in her path. Philza watched her, analyzing how she did it. He watched the shift in her four legged stance, analyzed the feeling of the magic, watched the way it landed. Maybe...

If he just tried...

Philza figured he had nothing to lose.

Shifting his stance into a solid shoulder length apart footing, he tried to imagine building up the power inside him like he had felt with Rutha. He felt a little ridiculous, standing there not doing anything but focusing. But that was the way his teleporting had started.

He tried to visualize pulling magic from him, from his soul, channeling it to his hands.

He thought he felt something-

No. Nothing.

Philza closed his eyes and tried again, this time trying to visualize something else. He tried to imagine grabbing the power not from him but from around him, pulling it from the void and letting it consume his body.

There. He definitely felt something.

His fingers tingled, before he released the energy, unable to hold it anymore. Nothing really happened, except a small zap in his body like he had gotten a shock.

But something did happen.

He smiled to himself.

He would just have to keep practicing.


	24. Canoe

Jel watched the little child in the canoe, staring up at the sky in wonder as a flock of birds flew overhead. She was swimming, pushing the canoe gently down the stream, not a real rush in the world. She didn't want to get to their destination. She didn't want to have to say goodbye.

Her heart hurt, a distant throbbing, like a clock that was ticking down her moments in this peaceful bliss.

This child would have been hers if the court would've gone with the original plan.

Gender and sexuality was really fluid for mer-folk, most of them actually able to help create children no matter what sex they identified as. It was a gift that only their species have. It was a reason that despite the high influx of same sex couples, their population hadn't gone down drastically. Well, not because of that reason. Mer-folk populations were still declining for other reasons.

Sport hunting, lack of food from competition from fishermen, normal everyday accidents, underwater internal fighting, and the worst, trafficking all hurt their numbers. It was pretty bad.

That's why things were a bit tense as of late. Anyways, the ability to have children no matter what was mostly that way for most mer-folk. The more human blood you had in you, the less likely it would work.

And there in the canoe next to the little child was her wife, Rive, who was almost three fourths of the way human.

Mostly human mer-folk were still considered mer-folk. Sure, there were some discrimination in some clans, but in Sally's clan Rive was accepted just like any mer-folk. Because of how strong mer-blood was, you had to get really really high levels of human blood for there to be any profound effects. And even then, once you get so little mer-blood it practically just disappears. That's why you don't see half human half mers running around on land using mer magic. That's why there isn't a huge influx of water magic users with mer-blood. Because they either are mermaids, or the blood is so little that it's practically not there. That's why Sally was so excited for her experiments. She was going to create something that could both have the benefits of the mer-blood and the ability to be above water for more than ten minutes at a time. At least, that was the time limit for Jel. For Rive it was a tad bit longer. About thirty minutes. 

They had been trying for a child for so long. They had joined Sally's clan, hoping that once she was able to artificially make children, she would give them one.

And she did.

And then the clan leaders took that child away from them.

Jel didn't care that Fundy was weird. That everyone treated her like something unnatural. Jel had loved Fundy at first sight.

"Humans shouldn't play gods."

That's what she had been told. But looking at Fundy, her cute little ears and soft tail, Jel couldn't help thinking that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if they had gotten such a beautiful end result such as this.

Then again she wasn't the person paying the price.

Rive and Jel were so hopelessly attached already. In fact, Rive and Jel were the people who named her.

But she did have to admit, it would've been hard taking care of Fundy permanently with the problem of her being unable to breathe underwater. They had asked Fundy to try holding her breath underwater once she had gotten good enough at swimming, and it turns out she can hold her breath for an impressively long time.

But it wasn't breathing underwater.

Jel knew in some part of her head she was just torturing herself. Volunteering herself as the couple that was to take Fundy to her dad. She was teasing herself, giving her and her wife a few weeks of what could have been.

But that didn't mean that Jel wasn't going to enjoy every single second of it.

Jel smiled as Fundy excitedly pointed into the forest surrounding them, laughing and rambling.

"Jelly! Jelly!" Fundy called out to her. "What is that?"

Fundy had grown up unnaturally fast. The healers said it was because of the ritual magic Sally had done, but they said the fast paced development should stop once she hit 14, and should stay looking young for a long while. Even just on the trip, Fundy had developed her new favorite words.

"What is that?!"

Rive put a hand up, blocking the sun from her eyes, long wavy and tangled blue hair cascading down her back. Rive was absolutely gorgeous, beautiful curves and graceful nature. Jel couldn't be happier that she got to spend the rest of her life with her.

Rive turned to Jel. "Yeah JellyFish," Rive used her pet name, "What is that?"

Jel had better eyes than Rive, something that concerned her. Jel wondered if Rive would have to get glasses later in life. Something that only humans had to do. 

"It's a village, Fundy!" Jel cooed at her.

"A village!" Fundy tried the new word out in her mouth. "Village. Vill-age. Village!" Fundy bounced up and down, her huge fluffy orange hair boinging like it weighed nothing. Her little ears twitched as she listened, putting a finger up to her lip in a shushing position, something she did while she was really focused. "I hear voices!"

"Yes." Jel smiled. "People live in villages. It's the place where all their homes are."

"Homes. Home." Fundy's little fists clenched up and she swung her arms back and forward. "Where is our home? Are we going home?"

Rive sadly pet the top of her head, getting a giggle out of her. "Yes. We are taking you to your new home."

Fundy ignored the last comment, instead leaning over the edge of the canoe. Jel tensed up, ready to catch Fundy if she jumped in the water. Fundy loved to swim away when they weren't looking.

"People." Fundy hummed, "There are people there?"

"Yup. People that live in the village."

Fundy's eyes got wide. "I want to go see people in the village!"

Rive laughed. "Awww, baby Fundy. We can't."

Jel thought about it. Why couldn't they?

"Why not?" Fundy asked.

"Yeah, why not?" Jel added onto it, causing Rive to look over at her in confusion.

"What?" Rive asked.

Jel swam to the other side of the canoe, jumping in and rocking the boat just a tad.

"Woah!" Fundy screamed, giggling.

Jel laughed, shaking off water from her arms and now legs. Slowly, she sat down on Rive's comfy thighs, pulling her closer as Rive blushed and looked away, pushing her slightly off.

"Stoooopppppp." Rive laughed. "Not in front of the child."

Jel lovingly grabbed at Rive's hair. "Why not baby? Why can't we stop?"

"Because-"

"Because we need to get there? We need to get there fast so we can just hand Fundy away?" Jel's voice was bitter.

"Well- yes, part of the deal with the clan was that we had to deliver her in a timely fashion."

Jel leaned into Rive. "We don't know what life Fundy is getting after we let her go." Rive's eyes flashed over to Fundy, the realization coming to her. "Let's make sure that she has the best childhood before we have to give her away."

Rive looked away, not meeting Jel's eyes.

"-fine."

"YAY!" Jel leaned into Rive, before turning her face to hers so that she could give her a kiss. "You're the best wife I could've asked for."

Rive blushed, pushing Jel off her lap. "I know."

"Hear that Fundy!" Jel clapped her hands. "We're stopping at the village!"

>{}<

Fundy was overwhelmed from all the sights and sounds. 

There were so many new smells, so many new noises, so many new things to just look at. 

The smell of the thick pine trees, the sounds of murmuring groups of people congregating in the town square, the smell of savory food in the air that Fundy had never smelled before, her tiny mouth starting to drool at the thought of sinking her teeth into the soft smelling food. 

"Jel! Jel!" She bounced around, running forward to the village that they were fast approaching. Jel laughed, running to catch up with her, her blue traditional mer-folk outfit jingling in Fundy's ears as she caught up with the little girl's small strides. Rive followed behind, walking gracefully out of the forest as they started to enter the town. 

Some people turned and noticed them, all three of them a bit wet and mystical, but for whatever reason the town was very busy that day, stalls and shops set out in the streets and most people lost in their own conversations. 

"Oh! They must be having a market today." Rive hummed in Jel's ears. 

Jel whispered back, thinking Fundy couldn't hear her. "This'll be perfect. We can get her some going away presents. Like a care package." 

Fundy didn't know what a care package was. But she liked the idea of getting gifts. Looking around, Fundy was excited by all the moving things, all the people bustling about, all the shopkeepers yelling out to come try their stuff. 

Everything was calling for her attention. She needed to look at everything. But one thing specifically caught her eye.

A group of small children like her played on the outskirts of the crowd, sticks in their hands bashing them together and play fighting. 

"Rive!" Fundy turned to her, pulling at her leg. "Can I go play?!" She pointed, a wide smile on her face.

"Of course, sweetheart. Just make sure you can still see us!" Rive finished as Fundy was already running away, running to the group of kids, them turning and looking at her as she approached them. Fundy had never met any other human friends before, at least not her age. She wanted to meet them. She was so excited. 

"Hi!" Fundy bounced, greeting the group of maybe five kids. 

One of the kids with short brown hair and a green jacket that went down to his knees stepped forward, clearly the leader of the group. "Who are you?"

Fundy smiled, saying what Jel and Rive taught her to say. "I'm Fundy!" 

The kid studied her, looking her up and down. "Where are you from?" 

Fundy tilted her head, not understanding. "What do you mean?" 

One of the more chubbier kids spoke up behind him. "Like, you don't live in the village. So where do you live?" 

"Oh!" Fundy looked behind her, making sure she could still see Rive and Jel. "I live in the canoe." Fundy was fascinated just watching them all move and talk together. Is this how she was supposed to act?

A different boy walked up to her, looking her up and down. "That's stupid. You can't live in a canoe." 

The leader laughed. "Nobody lives in a canoe." 

That didn't make sense to her. She lived in a canoe. She just did. Why couldn't she live there? "Oh. Well, then I don't live anywhere then." Fundy frowned, thinking.

"That's not possible!" The chubby boy waved his stick at her. "You have to live someplace! What about your parents?" 

Fundy clasped her hands together behind her back, leaning away from the group that was fast ganging up on her. "I- I haven't seen my parents. Jel and Rive are keeping care of me. But I'm going on a trip right now! To find my dad!" She was so excited. Jel and Rive keep telling her about how they are going to have to leave her in the care of her new father, and she couldn't be more curious to what he was like. It was like a mystery to Fundy, her staying up late just thinking about what life would be like without Jel and Rive. 

The leader stuck his stick in the ground, leaning on it. "Does your dad have fox ears like you?" 

Fundy's little hands went up to her ears, grabbing the tips of them almost subconsciously. "I don't know. I haven't met him." Why were they asking so many questions? Was she supposed to ask that many questions?

"Hmmmm." One of the boys hummed, before standing proudly and proclaiming, "My dad is the strongest! He could beat all of you guys up!" 

"Beat us up?" Fundy mimicked, not sure what that meant. 

"Haha!" The leader raised his stick, holding it like a sword once again. "We all know that my dad is the strongest! And plus, your dad can only beat us up if you live to go get him!" 

Fundy couldn't believe they all had dads. She thought that was something special that only she had. She guesses she was wrong. 

The little boys all screamed, the play fight picking up once again. 

"I want to play! I want to play!" Fundy bounced along the sidelines of the fighting, trying to get in.

The leader had a boy pinned to the ground, the stick-sword pressed up against his chest. He stopped the play fighting and looked over at her. "Girls can't play mobs and villagers! Girls have to be the princess that we save!" 

Mobs and villagers. What was that? Fundy had heard of a village, it was the place she was. They were in a village, or at least she thought. And a mob? What was that? Was that the dead green man that Rive and Jel told her to duck into the boat and hide from while they took care of him? If so, Fundy didn't like them. They were scary. But how do you play them? And more importantly...

Fundy scrunched her eyebrows. "What's a girl?" 

All the boys stopped. 

"What's a girl?!" The boy who was pinned to the ground asked in disbelief. 

Rive and Jel had never taught Fundy this concept. She didn't understand. Did she ask something wrong? 

"Uhh-" The chubby boy looked at her confused, "You're a girl. You know, boys and girls?" 

"Boys and girls?" Fundy repeated. 

The leader stood up, just as confused as the rest of them. "Boys and girls? You know... boys play outside, they are the warriors, the heroes! They are the fighters! And girls are wimps. They stay at home, they cook, and they make good princesses to save. And! And they have..." He leaned over to whisper it to the group. "They have c o o t i e s."

The group of boys erupted in disgusted groans. "EWWWW COOTIES!"

"Well," Fundy played with her hair, trying to make sense of it all, "I'm always outside. And I'm strong! And I don't cook! And I don't have cooties!" Fundy made the decision in her head. "That means that I'm a boy and not a girl!" 

"What?!" The group of boys shouted in confusion. 

The leader stepped forward, realizing what he had done. "No no no, like... boys have things that girls don't. Like... like they have short hair!" He said, pulling at Fundy's long fluffy hair. 

"Ow!" Fundy grumbled, pushing his hand away. She didn't like people touching her hair. 

"So, you can't be a boy!" 

"Well." Fundy was mad now, pushing the boy back. "If I cut my hair then could I be a boy?" 

"That's not how it works!" A boy cried.

"Why not!" Fundy placed both hands on her hips.

The leader didn't speak, but the chubby boy talked over him. "That's just how it is!" 

They all waited for the leader to speak. Fundy wanted to be a boy. She wanted to play with them, she wanted to save princesses with them. And she didn't have cooties. 

"Wait..." The leader hummed, stroking his chin in concentration. "Why doesn't it work like that?" 

"What?!" The chubby boy asked in shock. 

The leader smiled, nodding to himself. "Why doesn't it work like that! We need one more person for even teams, and we can't play with a girl! So let's cut her hair, and make her a dude! Then we'll have even teams!" He looked to the group, proud of the decision he came to.

"Yeah!" They all agreed with him, all following what he said, despite what they had just been saying earlier. 

"And then we can do the blood thing! Where we cut our arms and mix all our blood together! If she mixes her blood in with ours, then she will for sure be a dude!" 

"YEAH!" The group cheered, getting more and more pumped. 

"Yay!" Fundy pumped her fist in the air. 

"So," The leader turned to Fundy hand open for a handshake, "Ready to join the brotherhood?" 

>{}<

"Where is she?!" Rive rushed around the marketplace, panicking. 

"Fundy!" Jel cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling over the crowd. "FUNDY!" 

"I knew this was a bad idea!" Rive pushed through the crowds. She had only looked away for one second... one second. 

Jel had left to go find water before she started getting affected from water depletion, and when she got back, Fundy was no where to be seen. 

"FUNDY!" Jel screamed again, causing multiple people in the crowd to turn and look at her. 

"Miss. Miss." Rive pulled at the nearest lady who was trying to walk around them with her bag of goods in her hands. "Have you see a little girl, about yea high, bright orange hair and fox ears?" She tried to get the lady to talk to her, but she had just turned away quickly, trying to get away from the weird strangers. 

"Please!" Jel tried to get the attention of anybody from the crowd. "Her name's Fundy! Please!" 

Nobody wanted to help the two weird strangers with colorful hair that barely wore any clothing in their traditional mer outfits that they had just showed up in from the forest out of nowhere. 

"Excuse me? Ma'am?" A soft voice spoke up, a young girl about the age of ten walking up to them. 

"Yes?! Yes?" Rive hurriedly listened, leaning to hear her better. 

"Umm.. well... the village group of boys.... I saw that they had one extra person today. I think they're at the bakery right now." The girl said, intimidated by how intense both Rive and Jel were being. 

"Thank you!" Rive could almost cry. "Thank you!" They wasted no time leaving the girl in the dust, running to the bakery that they had stopped at earlier. 

If Fundy wasn't there...

They ran together through the crowds, pushing through the confused masses. The bakery appeared in their vision, the very sight of it bringing relief to both of them. 

Outside the front step sat a group of five boys and their Fundy, all sitting and eating little pieces of bread. 

Fundy's ears twitched as she heard them coming, her looking around in excitement and making eye contact with them right before they got to her. 

"FUNDY!" Rive cried, running up to her and swooping her in her arms.

Fundy laughed, hugging Rive back. "Helllooooo!" 

"Fundy, baby." Jel stood by, ready to get her hug as well. "You scared us so bad."

"I'm sorry! But look! Look!" Fundy squealed, reaching up to her head.

Jel and Rive both froze. 

Her hair-

It was messily cut, and would've looked extremely bad if it wasn't for Fundy's already bouncy and messy hair. 

"What?-" 

A small boy with one of the group stood up, a green jacket tied around his waist. "Fundy's one of the boys now!" 

The rest of the boys made noises of general agreement, nodding their heads and toasting with their pieces of bread. 

"Yeah!" 

"Look, Jelly!" Fundy raised her little fist, a bandaid across her palm. "I'm in the brotherhood! They took my blood!" 

"Wait- WHAT?!" Rive yelled, "They hurt you!" 

"No miss," The chubby kid stood up, holding up his own palm with a bandaid on it. "We all did it!" 

"What?!"

Fundy laughed, lowering her voice. "I'm a MAN now." 

"Fundy, sweetheart... that's not how that works!" Jel hummed at her, just happy she was safe. 

"Fundy, dearest." Rive bent down to be eye level with her. "Tell me, why do you want to be a boy?" 

"Well!" Fundy put her hands on her hips. "Girls don't do anything fun! Boys are the heroes! And we get to save princesses!" 

Rive and Jel exchanged looks. "Women can be heroes too. Both me and Jel are girls." 

Fundy frowned, thinking about it. "Oh. But- you're both so cool?" 

"Yes!" Jel smiled at her. "Women can be cool too! If not even better than boys!" 

Fundy thought hard, thinking about what information she was given. "Okay. Cool. But I still want to be a boy!" Fundy play growled, holding up her stick of bread in the air like a sword. "I'm part of the brotherhood now! We hunt prey and save women! We fight in the mud! We kill the monsters!" 

"Yeah!" The group of boys all cheered again, ripping into their own loaves of bread. 

"Well..." Jel looked to Rive for reasurance, "If you feel more like a boy than a girl... I guess you can be a boy." 

Fundy looked up at them with wide eyes. "Wait, really?!" 

Rive laughed. "Yes really!" 

"ALRIGHT MAN!" The boy with the green jacket shouted, clapping Fundy on the back. "You got your parents permission! Now you are a super duper real boy!" 

"Yes!" Fundy joined in, smirking with his sharp teeth. "One of the boys!" 

The rest of the boys clapped, hooting and hollering. 

"A toast!" The leader stood, holding up his piece of bread. 

"A toast!" 

"To our brother, Fundy!" 

"To Fundy!" 

"Anything you want to say, Fundy?" 

"To saving girls with cooties!" 

"To saving girls with cooties!" 

The boy looked up to the two women watching them, almost asking them the next question shyly. "Anything you want to toast to?"

"To Fundy and his new friends!" Jel smiled exasperatingly, tired from the exhaustion of her previous panic. 

"To the brotherhood!"


	25. Golden Blood

The voices were getting louder in his head.

As Technoblade walked into the freezing arctic, packed to the brim with supplies, he had been prepared to face the hardest challenges that any person could ever face. He thought he was ready.

But he wasn't ready for this.

He was annoyed. The voices, they just appeared one day. It started soft, a distant echo like humming at first, but over the course of the few weeks the voices were turning into almost distinguishable voices, like the broken remains of a long dead language. It was unsettling.

And it was happening in his head 24/7.

On top of that, he has started feeling something pulling him. Like a compass was set in his soul, pointing him to go a certain direction. He found himself walking, against the billowing winds and biting cold, in a slightly tilted direction, subconsciously turning.

What was doing it? Why was he susceptible to it? Was it dangerous? Friendly?

The questions were almost as loud as the words being whispered down his neck.

He was resolved to ignore it. And he had been ignoring it for a good solid while now. But he could only last so long. Today was the day that Techno finally cracked and stopped trying to walk away from the pulling.

He knew he was probably walking into a trap. He knew people came into the arctic and died. He knew this was a bad idea.

He just couldn't help himself anymore.

For how much Techno didn't like to involve himself into things, mainly social things, he was still a very curious person. He loved exploring, he loved answers. He loved knowing.

And this was something that he couldn't live with if he never figured out what it was.

Techno had followed through the dark snowy sky, the blizzard blocking out all sunlight from coming in. He had taken one of his cold resistance potions, otherwise he would've already been a corpse-sicle. He was happy he had packed as much as he had.

"It's always important to pack light." Philza had warned him. "But never pack light on things that may save your life."

Techno raised his hand against the wind, the cold air biting and sending prickles of pain through his body. It still was freezing, his hot breath turning into fog from the moment it escaped his mouth. His hair had fallen out of it's braid, whipping wildly round his face and if it wasn't for his mask it would but flicking into his eyes.

Where was the force taking him?

He had no idea how long he would be walking. He had no idea how long the storm would last. He had no idea if something was waiting just five feet in front of him ready to slaughter and feast upon his guts.

But, somewhere in his chest he knew he was walking the right direction.

The voices were getting louder.

Technoblade squinted, thinking he saw something. Something big. Something like a shadow rising in the distance, getting closer and closer as he planted each hoof in the ground and pressed forward in the thick crunchy snow.

Technoblade reached out, hand extended. His fingers glanced the edge of something solid. Something freezing. 

What in the world...?

Techno got closer, placing a full palm on it and leaning in to see what it was. Through harsh bursts of wind, he could see his reflection in crystal clear reflective ice, his own image multiplying like a house of mirrors. Confused, Techno pulled his hand back.

It was an ice wall.

How far across did it go? Could he climb over it? Around? What would be the best way?

It was kinda hard to think when all he could hear was the demon screeches in his head.

He put out his other hand, reaching forward and knocking on it to see if it was hollow. HIs knuckles rapped on it, and unfortunately he decided that it was too thick of ice to shatter through. Techno internally groaned. This was going to be such a hassle.

Then something odd happened.

Light pulsated from the spot where he knocked, a ring of blue light expanding across the ice like a ripple in water, sounds of crackling ice growing louder and louder as the light disappeared from his field of vision.

What had he done?

The ground rumbled, causing him to have to shift his stance to keep his balance. Placing a hand on the door for stability, he almost fell forward when the wall started to move, swinging inward.

It wasn't a wall-

It was a door.

He had-

He had just accidentally knocked on somebody's door.

The huge ice doors swung inward, a cold, less windy expanse of darkness being revealed by it's opening. 

What in the world?

He took a tentative step forward, finding the floor inside made of ice but not slick like he though. His hooves clinked, the delicate sound like glass tapping together as he stepped on the crystal. A gasp of pure amazement escaped his lips as he lit a torch, the golden glow reflecting off the walls like a brilliant light show of fireworks.

I know what you mean now, dad.

"You never forget the feeling of finding something that is just breathtakingly unreal- the feeling of discovering something so ethereal that it feels wrong. The feeling of being the first to admire something that nothing that humanity could offer, tears of awe coming to your eyes."

It was- in short- beautiful.

"It's what made all the drawbacks of adventuring worth it." Philza had said. "Nothing, and I mean nothing, even compares."

The room looked to be a crafted room of ice, a grand entrance to a palace with huge expansive ceilings, ice chandeliers of complicated snowflake like designs holding unlit dusty candles. Grand staircases mirrored each other on each side of the room, leading to a balcony on either left or right of the room. But right in the middle, right where there wasn't a balcony, was a perfect path that led straight from the front doors to a second pair of doors that touched the ceiling, breathtakingly carved with detailed designs of ice fractals.

Technoblade breathed heavy as the doors closed behind him with a rumble, taking in both the scenery and the fact that he was grateful to not be pounded by snow anymore.

He had never felt so alive.

The voices were scuttling around the outskirts of his subconscious, almost as if they weren't in his head anymore. Technoblade looked around, paranoid as he thought he heard them around him.

He felt gushing air swirl in the room, wind that should have been stopped by the closing door that nonetheless blew. But this wind felt different. It felt alive, conscious and breathing. It flicked between his fingers and fluttered his hair, pushing him on his back forward as the second of pair of impressive doors started to creak open.

It was calling him.

c̶̰͚͌o̵̳͈̳̓̆m̷͍͂ḛ̴̝͎̓̕ ̶̜̞͍̯͊̑̅̐c̷̩̓̑̾͌o̴̮̫̤͙͛m̶͇̠̤̞̾̅̍ë̴̲͙̦́̓͑͜͠ ̶͚͈̰̗͛̿̆̇t̷̗͎̂͛o̵̡͍̞̙̐ ̴̭̱͍̚ͅu̷̼̱̤̫͛͛̿ṣ̷̜̾ ̴̨̙͙͚̊c̸͓̩̞͂̕ö̸͎̋m̴̼͐̈́̍ē̶̠͙͓̈́̓͜ ̴̞̥̟̎̽t̷̡͑ö̸͇̖̙̪̈́̓ ̵̧̯̰̓̒ů̸͇̠̎̒̓s̵͈̜̬̮͊̒ ̴̜͉̋̽̄̄c̷̖̤̍ȯ̶͔m̵̨̽̄͗ẹ̷̯̍͘͝ ̷̨̺͈̣͗̎a̸̡̪̺͌̐̑n̵̺̋͋̊d̵̢̿͋ ̷̢̦̜̍s̷͓̯̺̈́è̶̡̥́e̴͈̰͐̎̋̒͜ͅ ̶͇̗̓̍͘ĉ̴̼̣o̷̲͓̒̂ͅm̶̛͙͐e̷̠͙̦̓̾͜ ̸̨̗̕͘t̷̥̚ö̴̪ ̵̘͖̼̽̋͝ü̸̥͖̦̥̆̇ṣ̷̺̏͝

He took a step forward, walking as his footsteps broke through the silence and humming of power around him, the darkness following close on his trail as he brought the light of the torch with him, the closest walls reflecting his image like tinted blue mirrors.

c̴̫̑͛̍ǫ̵̫̈̏̅m̷̬̭̓͐e̴̛͚̳̊̒͝ ̶̡̜̗͆̓c̷̨̳̘͜͝͠l̸̞͋͠ȍ̴͎s̶̞̖̠͜͝e̸̹͌̈̃̔ȑ̵̫͓̙̞̈́͆̉ ̸͈̞̳͐ċ̴̳̙̖̠̚o̶̧̳̙͚͑͆m̸̗̺̣̏̒͛͠ͅę̶̬̎̒ ̵̣̓̃̈c̶̬͓͛l̶̥̎̌̓o̵͕̥̺̅̊̚ͅs̷͓̬̝̃e̵̱̱̦͒r̸̼̉ ̴̙̭̇̒̀̽c̸̩̍o̷̢̞͐̈͜m̸̦͈͋̓ė̵̢͕͉ ̴̱͑c̷͉͊̀ļ̶̗̝̰́̐͘ǫ̶̤̌ş̴̰͓̿͊̚e̷͉̖͇͊̑r̷̝̘͚̓̊̎ ̴̞̍͑͆̑c̸̽̓͒ͅo̴̡̪͓̝̊̌̈́m̵͓͋̓̈e̸̢͚̓̔ ̶͚͙̅ć̶̖͍͎̈l̵̛͈̋̽͐o̵̡̘̬̭͌̽̏̕š̸̛̗̃͌e̵͔̊r̸̲̻̗͓̆

Inside the second pair of doors was a giant room, longer than it was wide. Ceilings larger than the last arched above in decorative architecture, icicles hanging down threateningly around a hole in the ceiling that let a beam of light shine down on what seemed to be the centerpiece of the room, the centerpiece that was also surrounded by towering statues of stone people of obvious power, some holding swords and others donning crowns.

The voices, the echoes of many, were screaming now.

C̶̡̼͍͔̱̗͚͙͉͆Ò̵̹̼̜̣̼̇̏͆̾̓͝͝M̴̤͉̫͎̯͓͉̽͗̎Ę̵̖̩̗͚͈͕̋͂̊͂̀ ̸̩̯̭̒̊̄̈́̒͗̅T̸͈̟͉͚̥̟̂̉̇͛̿̎̒̚Ō̵̢͕̝ ̵̠̺͈̐͂͗͝Ṷ̸͎̖̒̽͌̌̎̓͗S̴̫̄͝ͅ ̴͉̻̹̆̀̽̃̔̌̔C̷͈̰̯͉̦̗̔̍̋̊̚Ò̶̩̱̬͕͕̏̈́̾̀͜M̶̙̲̣̭̭̮̅͐͜Ȩ̶̱̪̪̝͈̮͖̩̀̅̅̉͠ͅ ̷͖̺͒̀͛͋̓̚Ţ̸̞̰̖̍͗͆̓̓͋͂̋͌͘O̷̧̨̻̼̯̼͙̲̬̓̓́̌̑̍͋̽͘̕ ̵̪̘̭̟̌U̷̢̬̍̄́̏̍̔̽́Ş̶̡̤̝̖̼̜͆̎͆̀̅̒͜ ̶̹͍̺̦̮͍̩̔͑͗̃͊̉͘̕C̸̬͓̤̿̉͊͛̿͛͆̇͝O̴̧̳͇̜̲̹͖̗̖͛̇̉͛̂M̴̼͕͚̗̗̖̫̝͔̩͂̿̇Ȇ̶͔͔̏͂̍̌̂͊ ̴̢̝̬̘̿̎͊̿̒͌͘͠Ṯ̷̪̠̹̩͕̖͚̘͗O̶̜̪͒̀ ̴̯͈̫̻̻̠̥̭̲̌̊͆̐̽̋̃̌͝U̴̡̗͔̺̩͓͎̼̼͙̐͂̇͊S̸̨͙̘̽́̍̄̚͝

The wind blew behind him, urging him to keep walking. He couldn't. He was frozen in wonder.

The centerpiece was another humanoid sculpture, a gruesome depiction of an unfortunate tortured soul strung up in glass chains, arms spread as if in a crucifixion pose. Runes encircled them, etched into the floor in giant cracks, like it was done messily by a sword, surrounding the spot that Techno had decided should've been a throne for a throne room. Instead, there was a woman crafted of ice, a sculpted frozen face of sorrow and a crown hanging from her head.

c̶̢̜͎̼̰̭̝̞̰̆̌̑̑͗͑̒̆o̷̬͇̯̼̘̊̓̚̕m̵̹̖͈̯̝̹̦̺̂͜e̵̡͓̜̫͒͗͗̐̓̓͘ ̵͙͛̏̂̆̓̽̎b̵̛̭̗̟̖͈̾͋̈́͛e̴̦͇̗̅͗̍̐̈́͘c̸̹̙̀̈͑o̸͕̯̰̖̻̭͑m̴̩̣͕̎ͅę̶̗͔̹̭̟̱̦̰͗̿̀̓̂̏̉̿̕ ̷̭͗̓̈́o̸̠̻̯͎̭̝̔͋̾͒̂u̴̧̞̼͚̺̞̓͛͋̀̽̅̕ṙ̴̡̯̱̘̫̩̬̭͚̟̾͆̇̑͛͘̚s̸̟͖͍̄͑̃̈́̈́͊ ̷̪͝c̸̡̲̖͔̩̠͙͆͂̋̒͗̾̈́̈́ȍ̶͔̬̕m̶̛̳̹̼͎̥̱̯̦͓̑̆̈͌̇͆̋̇͜e̸̤͍̓ ̶̻̮̍͊̓͌̚ṱ̵̹̩͛̂̈́͊͂͗͘ő̷̯͚̼͓̞͈̱̥̣̏͑͐̊͛̐̽̆͝ ̴̨̬͙̭̻̜̉̿͠͠ù̵̲̘̀̌͘͠s̴̨̬͉̭͎͖̎̉͗͝ͅ ̵̛̺̫̈̑͝c̷̢̬̓̈́̅ȏ̴̭̤̙̌̿͊̔͝͝͠m̶̨̡͎̻̣̽́e̵͚̬̗̞͓̗͖͛̇͒̈͑͘͘ ̵̟̟̫͖̣̮́̐́̕͜t̴̫̣͔̱̦͚͛́̾̐̎̊ͅo̴̩̥̻̫̜̙̬̞͇͌̃̄ͅ ̸̛͎̥̝̭̜̱̠̺̼̈́̈́̓͜͠ǘ̴͙̬̌̅͊̐̽͛̆͝s̵̝̠̺͑̾̆ͅ ̸̛̺̒͆͂̒͊͘͠c̷̛͍̔͂̉̆͛̓̚̕͝ǒ̵̧̩̳͕̥̲̞̻̯̟̾͛̊̀͠ḿ̴̧̡̭̩̩̲͚̑̌̊͐̀é̶͇̽͗̉̂͋͆͂͠ ̵̢̦̬̙͇̪͖̺͓̻̅̎t̶̡̧̞̹̞̖̣́̃̂̈͆͝͠ͅͅo̴͓̅̿̔̾̂̽̏̄̕͝ ̷̨̼͑̄̃̊͌͂̍̇̾͘ú̵̹̼̭̙̃ş̷̛̦̖͐̊̏̏͒̑͘̚ ̸̩̓c̸̥̬̀̔̂̂͠ő̸̢̬͓͎͂̈̑͘m̵̞̲͎͙̰̟͎̦̭̳̃̿́̇̏̂̽ȩ̵̙͎̮̩̜̀̌̕ ̵̫͔͗̋̓̋͑̇t̵̘̹̆̎̎̌͌͝ơ̶͎͙̠͐̋

Technoblade shook off his shock, instead carefully walking up to the elevated platform to the scene before him. He needed to be careful. This place was radiating power and danger. 

He got closer, and he realized that this statue was made with scary details. He could practically see the perfectly depicted weight distribution, the veins popping from her skin, the texture of her clothing, the frostbite on her extremities, the frozen tears mid path on her cheeks, glassy eyes of blindness staring blankly forward.

"Hello?"

Techno was physically taken aback by the weak voice.

No-

No way-

No way that that wasn't a statue-

Techno's soul practically left his body.

The weak voice called out again. "Hello? Are you there?"

Techno forced himself to speak.

"Hello?" He called back.

He saw the lady practically melt farther into her exhausted hanging position, gasps of pain coming from her mouth, puffs of foggy air escaping her lips.

"Is it you?" She cried.

"I uhhh-" Techno didn't know what to say, cautiously walking closer. "Do you need help?"

There was no sound. No sound. No sound but the pounding in his ears and the humming of power and the clinks of his hooves on the ground and the shuttery breaths of the lady and the screaming in his head. 

c̶̖̭̜͉̥̼̗̃̋͒̓̈́̔̊̒͆͘ǫ̵̫̟̻͍͕̠̱͍̓͜͝m̷̭̠͒͌̋̇e̸̤͚͔͖̹̝̮͚̘̋̏̾͌̊̍̆͛ ̸̥̍̃̃͝͠t̸̥̞̻̣͙̤̠̫̣͋ő̷̬̥̭͓͆͠ ̷̖͈̽̂͆̊͒̈́͠͝ṳ̶͂͂̉͝͠s̶̲̬͚̻̤̬̲̬͆̊̓͝ ̷̡̻̞̩̬̌̊̓͂́̒̅̚͝c̴̠̄o̶̠̞͈̥̼̠̥͎̪̤͗m̷̯̮͕̜͇͊̄̑͋͘e̶͓͎͍̜͍̅͌̈́̎̆͗ ̴̞̭̍̆͑̿̂̆ẗ̸̡̢͙͎́̇̾ǫ̶̯̙̰̼̘̱̹̯̫͆̈́̐͗̋̅̕͝ ̸̢̡̢̺̬͇̆͝ư̸̢̥̫̬̟̲̌̍̾͊̂̇͒͝ͅş̷̨̨̘̺̺͍̐̉̓̃̆̉ ̴͈̙̦̤̼͚͎̣̭͐͂͛̈́̎̄͋̓̓ͅc̵͔͙̭͎̓ǫ̵̧͕̖̯͕͔̎͑͌̄͌̍ͅm̷̢̟̘̩͚̆̉̀ȩ̴̢̙̭͎̺͈̘̖̮̉̂̄̔̀̿͆̑͗͐ ̵̧̞̞̘̣̪̮͉̜͇̐t̴͖̩̥̳̪̦͆̌̓̏̕͜o̴̪͎͈͂̇͑̊̈́̈̑̚ ̵̡͖̤̺͓̝̍͂͐ü̷̳̼͍̻̲̰̰̈́͑̓͘̕s̸̗͕̼̬̳̬̳͗̒̃̍̾̊̔͆̽ ̷͇̲̤̖̪̗̄͊͌c̶̟̗̩̝̺̼̻̻̀̆͜͝͝ͅố̶̧͖͎̳̝̮̹̊̓̅͜ḿ̶̨̜̻̼̣̞̈́͛̓̋͜ë̸̹̲͛͑̍̊̅̊͑͛̕ ̶̡͙̤͔̯̻̪̏̈́̾̂̈́̉͊ţ̸̳̫̱͉͉̺͎͒̍̇ö̷͓̞͔̓͌͌̑̐͊̿̕ ̸̨̬͌̀ȗ̷̧̝̤̺̼̳̮̭̒s̵̨̰͇͕͔̲̹̈́̐͑͋͋͆̈̌͠ ̷̡͎͍̼̪̩̯̤̗̗̿́̆̂͂̾͑̕ĉ̴̪̲̙̖̠̭̗͗͠ȍ̵̩̈́m̷͙̦͕̖̘̦̞̈́͗̏͐͐́̔ë̸͉̺̜̝̲͉́͛̓̆̈́͗ ̷̺͇̺̼͙̍t̶̢̠̀͗̑̀̄̇ǒ̴̡̪̩̝̘̥̤̥̞̓̈̇ ̸̫͉̥͙̦̘̹̐́̔ṳ̷̣̮͎̑̓̈ͅs̷̳̖̰̗̗̱̝̈́̒̕ ̴̧̧̛̣̞̘̥̹̗̉̾́͂̆͜͠ͅc̸̢̛̼͔̪̗̲͗̂̿̕o̷̗͊̀̒̔̚̕͠m̴̩̝̼͔̤͇͐̂ͅę̸̡̛͙̳̫̤̝̲̋͋̈́͆̃̎̕͝ ̵̧̡̝̙̖̥͋ẗ̷́̇̈̆̕̕ͅo̷̲̐̆͂̚ ̷̢̢͉͚̰̪̞̬̲̍̋̌͜͝͝ų̶̪͓̙̭̮̦̙̇͐͋̌͘͜s̷̖̙̠̦̯̭͋̉̈́͊͒͝

Her glass cuffs were too pretty for what pain they were causing. They clicked as she sunk further into despair, her voice pained beyond what Techno thought was possible.

"You're not him. You're not him. So they really did kill him- I- I had hoped-" Her voice cracked, unable to finish.

Techno was now only a couple feet from her, and he was really able to see all the grotesque details of her detainment.

"Him? How- how long have you been here?"

She looked up at his noise, her hair falling gracefully around her face. "Does- does it matter?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but it resonated like a thundering in the echoing room, the position the throne area was at specifically designed to carry voices. "Kill me. Kill me." She sobbed, suddenly pulling forward in her chains, her feet barely gaining traction on the ground.

d̴̙͚̍̊̈́͐̈́̈́̅̅͠͝ó̴̡̹͚̩͕͕̫̅̊̋͊̒̈́͜͜͜͝͝ ̷̛̣̳̬̮̲̱̩̉̃̿̓̃͋į̴̦͈̤̻͇̥̆̾͆̋t̸̨̫̤̼̪̹͙̹͈̯͒̿̈́ ̵̢̎̆͂d̴̝̳͓̘̙̠̾͛͆ǫ̷̗̟̙̌̿̄̀̃ ̴̲̯̖͔̉̌̅̇į̸͚͂͋͑̈́̄͗͐̒̒t̴̝̘̗̞̽͆̀̏̔͊̔͒͆͌͜͝ ̵̧̨͓̠̪̫̗̈͒̈̅̐̇͛̿́d̶̟̪́̾͒̿̉̊̿̑́̐͌̑̽ǒ̷̤̘̜͆̃͂͗͌̐̐̈̕͠͠ ̵̠̖̘̈́̓i̴̤͕͋͗͑̂̌̍̅͂̾̿͘t̸͔͓̣̘͔̣̭̘̽͛́͌͜͜ͅ ̵̡͈͕̣̹̻͖͖̃̐͌͑̒͘̚͠͠ͅd̶̬̩̺̞̝̪̗͓͚̱̥̝̉̓̾̚o̸̼͎͚̱̤̙̯̹̗̿ ̷̡͔̈̏̓̆ḭ̸̝̙͇͔̬̏͒t̷͚̜̱͍͒̃̈́͒͝͝͠ ̶̪͐̒͌̓͂ͅd̵͕͎͖̣͋̀̔͋́̄͑́̒̇͝õ̶̢̠̝͇̜͚̝̥̜̌́̄͑̈́͝͝ ̶̧̢̨̢̛̻̣͍̣̦̪̮̍͌̆͑̅̽͜į̸̨̖̰̤͎̟̖̪̤̺̰̈́̀͊̈́̓̅̄̂͘͠͝t̸̛̛͇̩͖͂̒͐͛̏̒ ̶̡̧̧̣̰͕̗͎̻̘̦̋̓̔͜͝d̵̞͛̿̃̀̕o̶̢̨͙͈͕̯̠̪̲̹̮͓̻͆̓͋͒̓͋͛̈́̑̾̅͐͐ ̵̪̄́̓i̴̡̙̻̥͍̞͔̯͈̮̖͈̠̿͘t̶̡̧̠͉̼̣͇̪̙̜͗͗́̏͒̀̌̄͗̕

"Uhhh-" Technoblade uncomfortably drew his sword. "I could just- cut you free?"

"No-" She sobbed, new tears falling down her face and splashing on the ground. "They watch. They watch. I have been waiting, waiting for so long. Waiting for rescue. Waiting for him. Waiting waiting waiting waiting-" Her voice trailed off, gasping for air. "He said- he said he would find a way. Find a way to save me. They told me they would kill him. So if it's not him- he's dead. Then I want to be dead. I've so long craved to be dead. They won't let me go. Kill me kill me kill me kill me-"

Techno didn't dare get close to the lady as she sobbed. "Uhh- who won't let you go?"

Her chin snapped up, head framed by the beams of sunlight as she looked almost into the heavens. "The gods- the gods- I hold- I hold their last remnants of power. They won't let me die- they won't let me die because if I die they die- if I die they die- Kill me. Kill me and end them. Please. Please."

ḑ̸̥̠͉̪̝͓̤̮̻̆̃õ̷̩͉̍͛̿͗͘ ̸̨̭̯͇̙̣͎̤̉͊͘i̸̧̠͖̱̞̖͑̋́͜͜͠ţ̴̢̛͙̻̝̱͎̳̈̈́͒͜ ̶̨̺͖͉̙͙͇̏̊̅̆́̈́͗͠ͅk̶̹̼̳͔̏͂i̵̻͙͇̪̼̰̘͍͈̻̪̍̂̎̇͐̈́̒̂l̸̙̜̬̟̬̀̑́l̷̛̳̯̥͈͙̂̈́͝͝ ̸̢̢̰̲̰̯̘̫͈̜̹̞̇́̇̇͛̓͊̚h̵̦̖͓͙͂̋̊̑̕͠e̶͚̥͋̉͛̽̐̂̄r̶̡͇̼̠͚͕̘̳͉̗̬̄̇͜ͅ ̷̢̣͚̭̍̃̾̔̂̏͛̃ḋ̶̰̖͙̲͋͌o̴̟̖̣͗ͅ ̵̡͚̲͓͕̜̤͈̺̤̠͍̯̇̊i̶͊̍͑̈͝ͅẗ̷͉͇̲͔̱̬̲͌͜ ̶̢̧̛̘̖͇̔͑͛͛͛̇͠͝ķ̸̡̛̩͆̇͛͝i̵̜̓̍̌̅̿͐̏̓͝͠͝ĺ̵̢̮̺͋́̈́̈́͋̅͌l̵̢̖̮̫͎͙͕̝̘͊̇ ̷̡̬̝̺͖͓̤̭̬̝͓̳͛͜ḩ̷̡̧̡̮͇̻̗͇̥̝̻͊̇̒͘͜ë̴̢͉̱͚͓̮͚̹̙̭́̓̃͐͂̏̀̂̚͘̚͜͝ͅr̶̨̲̼̫͓͎̅̓̔̇̇̅̽̋̚͝ ̴̥̪̺̉͗̄̿͋͛̄̉̆̀d̵̪͚͈͚̝̋͑̏̈́̓͆͑͗͐̊͘̕͜ơ̴̧͇͙̮̹̦̘̘͚̞̇̍͛̓͒͂̓̈́͛̕͜ ̷̡͚̱̮̏̈̋̂͝ĩ̵̡̻̮̮̭͚̰̰̾̚͠ͅt̸̡̧̗̹̻̺̦̠͗͊̓̓̄͒̎̈́̈́͘͜͝͝ ̶̛̞̮̭̘̥̻̦͍̠̝̒͐̈́̈͋̑͗͋̕͠k̸̨̩͔͔̟͖͙̱̗͊̀͐͌̓͑̌̉͜͜į̵̼̪̱͖̤̮̹̬̏̋̐͗̒̽͘ḹ̴̕l̸̢̛̳͎͉̝̱͖̥͔̫̔͗̉̅͊̆͗͑̈́͒̕ ̶̛̙̯̮̤͇͔͎̼̝̮͙̎͑̽̈̒̊̃̀͊͝͠ẖ̵͎̦͎̬̩͖̰̬̭̑̒̾͂̈̋̚e̵͇̯͓̾̇̏̏̊̈́̽͜͝͠͠r̵̢̥̖͉̬̖̗̘̰̦̽̂̃̔͆̌̚ ̵͇̥̦̼̘͓̆̄̂̃̈͜d̶̡͇̹̹̒̂͌̇̈̍̓̇̚͠͠͠͝ͅͅő̶͉͈̩͕̣̲͍͆͐͐͐̎͗̿̄͋̚̕͝ ̶̡̖͙̙̔̑̐̐̋̂į̶͉͓͈̟͉̭̆̄̍́̂͠t̸̡̡͈̼͛̏̊̇̄̀̉̊͌͒͝͝ ̶̪̜̭̻͑̒͗k̸͚̺̳̻̲̱̒̏̉̾̈́̈́̆̄̚͜͠͝ͅi̴̧͕͉̻̼̮̟͈̞̘͔͔̽̍̔͂̑͋ͅl̸̠̗̟͕̫͙̮̥͔̻̈́̒̽̅̍̄̑̈́͊͋l̸̨͍̼͓̻̻̯̻̹̠͍̎̈̉̚ ̵̯̓͑̃͑͒̋̕̕̚ͅȟ̵̡̝͙̪̤̓̓̍̌̃̈́͆̈́̈̾̀͂ȇ̸͖̺̩̼̖̺̙̥͈̦́̈́̈̒͛̈́̋̈̉͌͐͐r̷̨̛̛̐̎̅̈́̔̿̕

Technoblade stuttered. "Uh- uh lady- uh I just got here I really don't know what's going on-"

ḑ̸̥̠͉̪̝͓̤̮̻̆̃õ̷̩͉̍͛̿͗͘ ̸̨̭̯͇̙̣͎̤̉͊͘i̸̧̠͖̱̞̖͑̋́͜͜͠ţ̴̢̛͙̻̝̱͎̳̈̈́͒͜ ̶̨̺͖͉̙͙͇̏̊̅̆́̈́͗͠ͅk̶̹̼̳͔̏͂i̵̻͙͇̪̼̰̘͍͈̻̪̍̂̎̇͐̈́̒̂l̸̙̜̬̟̬̀̑́l̷̛̳̯̥͈͙̂̈́͝͝ ̸̢̢̰̲̰̯̘̫͈̜̹̞̇́̇̇͛̓͊̚h̵̦̖͓͙͂̋̊̑̕͠e̶͚̥͋̉͛̽̐̂̄r̶̡͇̼̠͚͕̘̳͉̗̬̄̇͜ͅ ̷̢̣͚̭̍̃̾̔̂̏͛̃ḋ̶̰̖͙̲͋͌o̴̟̖̣͗ͅ ̵̡͚̲͓͕̜̤͈̺̤̠͍̯̇̊i̶͊̍͑̈͝ͅẗ̷͉͇̲͔̱̬̲͌͜ ̶̢̧̛̘̖͇̔͑͛͛͛̇͠͝ķ̸̡̛̩͆̇͛͝i̵̜̓̍̌̅̿͐̏̓͝͠͝ĺ̵̢̮̺͋́̈́̈́͋̅͌l̵̢̖̮̫͎͙͕̝̘͊̇ ̷̡̬̝̺͖͓̤̭̬̝͓̳͛͜ḩ̷̡̧̡̮͇̻̗͇̥̝̻͊̇̒͘͜ë̴̢͉̱͚͓̮͚̹̙̭́̓̃͐͂̏̀̂̚͘̚͜͝ͅr̶̨̲̼̫͓͎̅̓̔̇̇̅̽̋̚͝ ̴̥̪̺̉͗̄̿͋͛̄̉̆̀d̵̪͚͈͚̝̋͑̏̈́̓͆͑͗͐̊͘̕͜ơ̴̧͇͙̮̹̦̘̘͚̞̇̍͛̓͒͂̓̈́͛̕͜ ̷̡͚̱̮̏̈̋̂͝ĩ̵̡̻̮̮̭͚̰̰̾̚͠ͅt̸̡̧̗̹̻̺̦̠͗͊̓̓̄͒̎̈́̈́͘͜͝͝ ̶̛̞̮̭̘̥̻̦͍̠̝̒͐̈́̈͋̑͗͋̕͠k̸̨̩͔͔̟͖͙̱̗͊̀͐͌̓͑̌̉͜͜į̵̼̪̱͖̤̮̹̬̏̋̐͗̒̽͘ḹ̴̕l̸̢̛̳͎͉̝̱͖̥͔̫̔͗̉̅͊̆͗͑̈́͒̕ ̶̛̙̯̮̤͇͔͎̼̝̮͙̎͑̽̈̒̊̃̀͊͝͠ẖ̵͎̦͎̬̩͖̰̬̭̑̒̾͂̈̋̚e̵͇̯͓̾̇̏̏̊̈́̽͜͝͠͠r̵̢̥̖͉̬̖̗̘̰̦̽̂̃̔͆̌̚ ̵͇̥̦̼̘͓̆̄̂̃̈͜d̶̡͇̹̹̒̂͌̇̈̍̓̇̚͠͠͠͝ͅͅő̶͉͈̩͕̣̲͍͆͐͐͐̎͗̿̄͋̚̕͝ ̶̡̖͙̙̔̑̐̐̋̂į̶͉͓͈̟͉̭̆̄̍́̂͠t̸̡̡͈̼͛̏̊̇̄̀̉̊͌͒͝͝ ̶̪̜̭̻͑̒͗k̸͚̺̳̻̲̱̒̏̉̾̈́̈́̆̄̚͜͠͝ͅi̴̧͕͉̻̼̮̟͈̞̘͔͔̽̍̔͂̑͋ͅl̸̠̗̟͕̫͙̮̥͔̻̈́̒̽̅̍̄̑̈́͊͋l̸̨͍̼͓̻̻̯̻̹̠͍̎̈̉̚ ̵̯̓͑̃͑͒̋̕̕̚ͅȟ̵̡̝͙̪̤̓̓̍̌̃̈́͆̈́̈̾̀͂ȇ̸͖̺̩̼̖̺̙̥͈̦́̈́̈̒͛̈́̋̈̉͌͐͐r̷̨̛̛̐̎̅̈́̔̿̕"

"KILL ME!" She screamed suddenly, throwing herself forward as far as her chained arms would let her.

K̶̰̩̲̥͖̜͔͓̝̏͆̎̔̅̆͐̚͝Ḯ̷̝̘̘͎̥̻̹̒̈̓͐͜͠ͅL̴̛̻̮̻̤̗̣͎̖̪̯̈́͂͛̀͂͆̅̍̂͘̕L̶̨͎̼̩͚͚̣̭͉̪̥̹͇͑̋̈́̇̇̌̐̒̾͠ ̴̢̥̩̜̳̥̻̻͍͎̦͔̑͋͛̈́̉Ḧ̵̡̰̠͔̙̭̹́̐̒̾́E̶̟͓̱͔͋̌̔̓̈́̐̍͋͜R̵̳̺͍͚̜̙͐́̒͛͝ ̵̡̡̺͓̼̱̼͕̳̮͖̯̎̏͂̿̽͌͊͒̊̕ͅK̵̯͌I̶̙͙̣͋̌̑̈́̽Ľ̶̙̯̱͖̓̾̈̀̑͒͘͝L̷̖̩̗̮̠͖̘̦̰̤̆̈́̾ ̷̢̧̹̰̯̹͛H̵̢̡̳͇̗̅̃͘ͅE̸͇̮̺̞̜͕͙̳R̸̡͖̘̣̫̞̜̥̳̻̖̱̍̈́̎̈́͜͝͝ ̴̧̡̪̝̲͍̥̹̥͖͂̎͛͆̒̐̑̽̇͆͜͜͝K̸̢̧̹̲͍̬̘̥̯̩͖̈́̀̾̎̃͘̚Į̸̟̙̣͖͈̟̙̰͌̎L̴̠̣̭̆L̴̜̹̘̝̳̭̖͊͌̄̈́͝ ̷̛̱͚̳̥̱̏̄͋̆͋̊̑̓͜͠H̴̢̊͑E̸̬̪̔̈́̊̅̈́̆͋̂̄͒͝͝R̶̢̙̝͖̟͓͉͙̪̺̟͗͗͘ ̸̢̡̩͕̞̳̘̩̟̟̪͖̈́ͅK̸̡̞̙̲̩͖̳̈́̾Į̵̛̩̱͉͌͑̅̍L̸̢͚̜͎̠̳̅͐̓̊̑͋̈́͑L̶̻̘͇̲͉͓̖̝͙̐̿ ̷̙͗̑͐̒̄̇̕H̷̨̢̢̧̼̦̱̯͇̪͖̰͊̾̃͝E̵̡͎͔͍̪͖̬̥͎̔͛͂̀̕ͅR̴̩̟̀͂̋̓̄̈́͋̊͝ͅ ̵̘͙̮͇̽͊̿̈͌̌͐̀K̶̢̪̤̺͓̝͆͋̋͘I̸̛̙̤̙̼̿́̏̃͌̌͑̍̎̍̅͘L̴̛̳̱͈̬̭̿̅̽͆̀͌̕͘Ľ̴̢̨̞̼̟̹̻̰̞͆͊̊͗̅̏͝ ̶̧̞̮͚̖͈̻̭͇̎̎̂̆̂̾͑̚Ĥ̸̺͖̗͖̫̥̯̿̓̾̉͐͝ͅE̶̢̐̿̆̔͒͜͝͝͝R̶̨̧͈͕͉̖͖̣̳̠̄̃ ̵̨̡̠̫̭̺̳͈̞͔̲̩͎̿̇͛̍̈̊͠͝͝Ķ̸͉̠̈́͒̈̂̈́̿͘I̵̡͎͍̯̻̳̓͆̿̂ͅĻ̴̌̔͊͌̽̐̐͘L̶̨̼̪̥͇̼̳͈̖̪̳͙̒͋̅̈́̂̎ ̷̨̢͙̪̜͈̘͎̝͉̫̬̮̔̍͒̍̏͋̌́́͌̚͝͝H̵͕̱̖̱͉͇̞͕̯̤͉̎̀̈́͗̇͝͝E̸͇͈̫͖̱̪͂͂͐̈́̊͛̌̚͝R̶͕͉͎͚̗̳͒̄̀͊̍͐͑̍͌̀͠

Techno was panicking.

He didn't know what to do.

What was he going to do-

K̶̰̩̲̥͖̜͔͓̝̏͆̎̔̅̆͐̚͝Ḯ̷̝̘̘͎̥̻̹̒̈̓͐͜͠ͅL̴̛̻̮̻̤̗̣͎̖̪̯̈́͂͛̀͂͆̅̍̂͘̕L̶̨͎̼̩͚͚̣̭͉̪̥̹͇͑̋̈́̇̇̌̐̒̾͠ ̴̢̥̩̜̳̥̻̻͍͎̦͔̑͋͛̈́̉Ḧ̵̡̰̠͔̙̭̹́̐̒̾́E̶̟͓̱͔͋̌̔̓̈́̐̍͋͜R̵̳̺͍͚̜̙͐́̒͛͝ ̵̡̡̺͓̼̱̼͕̳̮͖̯̎̏͂̿̽͌͊͒̊̕ͅK̵̯͌I̶̙͙̣͋̌̑̈́̽Ľ̶̙̯̱͖̓̾̈̀̑͒͘͝L̷̖̩̗̮̠͖̘̦̰̤̆̈́̾ ̷̢̧̹̰̯̹͛H̵̢̡̳͇̗̅̃͘ͅE̸͇̮̺̞̜͕͙̳R̸̡͖̘̣̫̞̜̥̳̻̖̱̍̈́̎̈́͜͝͝ ̴̧̡̪̝̲͍̥̹̥͖͂̎͛͆̒̐̑̽̇͆͜͜͝K̸̢̧̹̲͍̬̘̥̯̩͖̈́̀̾̎̃͘̚Į̸̟̙̣͖͈̟̙̰͌̎L̴̠̣̭̆L̴̜̹̘̝̳̭̖͊͌̄̈́͝ ̷̛̱͚̳̥̱̏̄͋̆͋̊̑̓͜͠H̴̢̊͑E̸̬̪̔̈́̊̅̈́̆͋̂̄͒͝͝R̶̢̙̝͖̟͓͉͙̪̺̟͗͗͘ ̸̢̡̩͕̞̳̘̩̟̟̪͖̈́ͅK̸̡̞̙̲̩͖̳̈́̾Į̵̛̩̱͉͌͑̅̍L̸̢͚̜͎̠̳̅͐̓̊̑͋̈́͑L̶̻̘͇̲͉͓̖̝͙̐̿ ̷̙͗̑͐̒̄̇̕H̷̨̢̢̧̼̦̱̯͇̪͖̰͊̾̃͝E̵̡͎͔͍̪͖̬̥͎̔͛͂̀̕ͅR̴̩̟̀͂̋̓̄̈́͋̊͝ͅ ̵̘͙̮͇̽͊̿̈͌̌͐̀K̶̢̪̤̺͓̝͆͋̋͘I̸̛̙̤̙̼̿́̏̃͌̌͑̍̎̍̅͘L̴̛̳̱͈̬̭̿̅̽͆̀͌̕͘Ľ̴̢̨̞̼̟̹̻̰̞͆͊̊͗̅̏͝ ̶̧̞̮͚̖͈̻̭͇̎̎̂̆̂̾͑̚Ĥ̸̺͖̗͖̫̥̯̿̓̾̉͐͝ͅE̶̢̐̿̆̔͒͜͝͝͝R̶̨̧͈͕͉̖͖̣̳̠̄̃ ̵̨̡̠̫̭̺̳͈̞͔̲̩͎̿̇͛̍̈̊͠͝͝Ķ̸͉̠̈́͒̈̂̈́̿͘I̵̡͎͍̯̻̳̓͆̿̂ͅĻ̴̌̔͊͌̽̐̐͘L̶̨̼̪̥͇̼̳͈̖̪̳͙̒͋̅̈́̂̎ ̷̨̢͙̪̜͈̘͎̝͉̫̬̮̔̍͒̍̏͋̌́́͌̚͝͝H̵͕̱̖̱͉͇̞͕̯̤͉̎̀̈́͗̇͝͝E̸͇͈̫͖̱̪͂͂͐̈́̊͛̌̚͝R̶͕͉͎͚̗̳͒̄̀͊̍͐͑̍͌̀͠

KILL ME

KILL ME

KILL ME

Technoblade grimaced as he pulled his sword, the soft shink of flesh pushing against his sword. He hated it. He closed his eyes, not able to look. He couldn't-

He couldn't breathe

He couldn't look

He gripped the hilt of his sword hard, his knuckles screaming in pain.

She had asked for it.

She had begged for it.

He was-

He was putting her out of her misery.

Technoblade tentatively opened his eyes, stomach absolutely queasy as he saw her corpse slumped forward, a look of pure joy on her face frozen along with the tears from her sobbing and the golden blood dripping down the front of her shirt. His hands shook.

He had never killed a person before. 

Mobs, monsters, humanoid creatures. Things all trying to kill him, and he killed with no remorse. 

But a person-

He stood in shock. Watched her corpse. Watched the golden blood drip slowly onto the ground. Watched watched watched watched-

How could something like this happen?

His thoughts were moving so slow. All he could do was stare. Stare at the cold blood that now stained his hands. 

Was it the voices?

We're they coming for him next?

Did he need to run?

Did he need to escape?

What was next?

Was he next?

Was he next?

Was he next?

Get a hold of yourself. 

Move.

Move.

You're in danger.

Technoblade finally found the strength to move. He slowly started to make headway, pulling his sword from the ladies chest and raising it in defense, golden blood running down the hilt and hitting his hands. Turning his back on the corpse, he didn't slide his sword back into it's sheath, instead holding it up as he readied to walk down the set of stairs to the main floor and back out the hauntingly beautiful ice doors.

This place was a deathtrap.

As beautiful as it was dangerous. 

He took his first step down. 

Clapping. 

He heard clapping.

The sound was enough to make him want to crawl out of his skin, the sound running like tremors down his spine right into the floor. 

He was in danger.

He was in danger.

He was in danger.

Bravo.

The distorted voice sounded like the previous screaming in his head, the voices overlapping together and making on strange all encompassing voice.

It was a sound unlike anything Techno had ever heard.

"Who are you?" Techno's voice echoed through the throne room.

Who were they?

What were they?

Techno knew what the lady had said. The deranged half dead lady he had finished off. 

Gods. He had killed her. He had killed her.

The same Gods that were keeping her here.

"What?" Techno yelled back at the voice. "She- she said that if I killed her that you would die-"

That was assuming she wasn't crazy. 

But the voices-

Ah yes. That is what she thought. But- she was mistaken.

This was bad.

This was bad.

"What?"

The cold statues looked down on him, Techno frozen in place on the stairs. He couldn't run. He couldn't move. His knuckles hurt from squeezing the hilt of his sword so hard, his only lifeline. 

She thought that if she died, she would kill us as well. She was right, in a way. She needed to be destroyed for us to die. She needed to be maliciously killed and brutally disposed of.

The voice paused, watching Techno.

Watching him.

Watching.

Like he had watched her.

But what just happened- well, think of it more of a transfer of power.

"A- A transfer of power?"

Techno followed his words, processing what this meant.

What did that mean?

"That would mean that I would hold your power then."

Correct! The dead gods declared pleasure in their voices. 

But not exactly. Our power is too much for one mortal to handle, so we've split it. For some reason, a cruel twist in fate, we've only been able to live as long as a mortal has possession over the remnants of our power. But that doesn't mean that we have to give all that power to one mortal. We have also given power to our most faithful subject whose soul is tied to this castle, who watched over the prisoner and stops you from dying right where you stand from your body completely disintegrating from our power.

The events were happening too fast.

You need to get out.

Think of a way to get out.

Think of a way to escape.

"Wait, you're not going to keep me here and tie me up like you did to her-?"

No no, the voices laughed. Of course not, silly. The only reason why we did that was because she was becoming a risk to our powers. She was becoming too much of a liability. Then, on top of that, she disobeyed us. And you know, sometimes Gods have to discipline their disciples.

"So- what now?" Techno asked.

What did they want?

What was their angle? 

What were they trying to do?

Now... now we let you meet our little faithful follower.

With those words Techno heard the screaming in his head double in strength. He cupped both hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound as he doubled over in pain.

A̵̧͊̍̋̀̒͐͝Ą̵̡͍̖̳̪̣̟͍̂͘Ȧ̴̧͉͖̳͓̃͛̒̽Á̸͕̺͔̩̘̠̪̠̦̽͋̄ͅĂ̷̛̫̫̾Å̵̠̲̤̻̙͓͔͕̻̲͙̌̅͆͛̂̐̑A̶̝̰̻͔̺͍͂̾͘͜Ā̶̠͙̫̫͙̘̟̲̤͗̐̌Ả̷̛̰̝̱̼̞͖̼͙̃͒A̶͓̗͋Ȃ̴̢͍̩͓̪̈́̔A̴̛̗͍͓͖̫̼̺̹̐͛̐̓̂̍̒̍̄̕A̸̧̨̛͈͚̻͓͈͉͍̬̗̗͋͌̇̈́͆̍̚͘͠Ä̵͍͔̼͔́̌̔̐͌͂͂ͅA̴̢͉̪̯̳͇̖̬̪͖͕̥̓̈̾̂A̴̭̱̥̹̫̐A̸̻̦̲̰͆̐̈́͂̋̔̉͆͗:̴̡͕͈̲͘̚͝L̵̮͔̼̉̄̄̌̉̀͌̽͂̚͝K̵̨̨̙̼̥̱͇̉D̸̡̠͙̳̺̹̓͑̾̇͋͝Ṋ̶̛̪̳̩̅̇̕Ṩ̴̨̛̹͓̩̤̭̳̄̀̃͒̑̐͐̚̕Ṽ̴̫̟̜̹̟͖͊̈Ó̶̡͎̦͍̠͈̰̟͈Ȉ̷̧̹͚̙͕̖͔̦̓̈́́̐̎W̵̡̭̳̤͈̗̤̰̅̍̾̐E̴̛͚͚̜͖͈̬͑͊̔̔ͅH̷̡̡̥͖͎͙̖͇̗͔̔͜J̵͚̦̟̭̝͙̩̈ͅF̸̩̦̲̘͓͈̩̖̮̥̏̆̈́̆̊̆́͒̚͜B̷̨̖͇̰̘̗͙͉̙͍̼͓̽̇̐̾̊̋͑̂̃̓̉̃͘ͅG̸̢̛̬̹̰̙̼̻̓̿̃̈͛̀͊͌̑̔͘͠I̴̝͗̇̐S̷̝̥̻̑͋̋͑͋̚͝Ĺ̴̩͖̪͛̅̄̈́̈́͊̕͝D̶͖̠̼̘͎̱̟͕̫͈̟̣͙̎̃̂V̵̡̛̭̜͓̈́͗̓͆͆̇̽J̴̭͓̎́̌́̅̏́̃͝Į̷̡͈̘͚͕͔͕̝̘̩̏̅̔̇̐̐͘̚̕̚Ő̸̫̯̤̦͉̰̐̋̐̾͊̾͑̓͘͝Ȩ̴͓̙̝͙̯̺̺̜̉͋͗͒̏̊͘̕͜͜͠͠W̶͇̣̍̽̑͛̌̚H̷̼̩̔̍́́͛͑̐Ĭ̶̡̄͂̎̕̚͝B̶̨̢̟̣̩͖̞͉̹̮̞̤̓̏͌͗̏͘L̶̜̝̝̂͋̆͆̿̋̉̏̒͠F̸̢̙̙̦̗̏͋͒̈́̿̆̍͠S̵̯̯̗͖̣̯͖͇͇̣͂̑͋̐̋̈̅̈́͝D̴̛̞̙̘̽̈́̎̽̓͘̚͜ͅJ̴̧͇̪̘̹͖̰̦̯̯̈́̈́͌̈́͂̏̆͝K̴̺̼̥̟͐̐̎͐̉̇̇J̶̙̹̮̈́̈́͝Į̶͙̯͖̺̍͘O̸͉͙͎̥̩͓̭̤̺͒̂̽A̵̛̺͎͇͌̈́̈́̈́̌͒͌̐Ḋ̵̠͝E̶̛̲̭͆̓̍̈́͌̽͒̐͠Ẅ̶̨̙̩̲͔̘̬̩̟̠́̏͒̍̄͐͘͝͝H̸̢̠̱̮̳͎̼̫̻̠́͋̃́͝I̷̺̱̅̓̿͒͂̆̈́̈́̎̈́̐͜͝

It hurt.

It burned.

It was going to tear him apart from the inside out. 

Don't mind him, he's just trying to take over your body. We've forbidden him from killing you, he has to stay with you to help slowly build your power tolerance so that you don't, ya know, die; but we also didn't forbid him from trying to become the new host of power by taking over his body. Did we mention our faithful follower was a demon? And trust me, after the last girl rejecting him for centuries, even after she was chained up and tortured under our eyes, she never buckled. He sure does have a lot of passion for infiltrating you. Well, it's only natural, he was the one that drew you here in the first place.

Techno could barely understand the words as he fell to the ground, his head splitting open as he felt every fiber of his body on fire. It was if talons were dragging across his brain, ripping apart his flesh and dissecting his thoughts. This spirit felt so invasive, his body felt flipped inside out, he felt like his skin was going to flay off his body.

How did the lady- how did she hold on-

Techno focused on not dying. Pain wracked his body, and he could feel his consciousness slipping. He needed- he needed to stay awake- he needed to think- he needed- he needed to stay alive-

He needed to see his family again.

Philza had told him that was something he always thought whenever he was desperate. It was words that could keep a dying man going just a couple more steps. Think of what you have to fight for. Think of what you have to fight for. 

Techno clenched his jaw shut, the force almost able to break it. Wilbur. Tubbo. Tommy.

He screamed in pain.

He needed to see them again.

Wilbur.

Tubbo.

Tommy.

He repeated the words over and over again in his head, muttering it like a prayer.

Wilbur.

Tubbo.

Tommy.

The screaming stopped.

The relief in pressure in his head was like he was breathing for the first time, like he was alive for the first time. He gasped, his throat numb from his screams. Heavy breaths came from his mouth as he realized he was laying on the floor, back pressed against the ground, the dead lady leaning above him hung up in her chains.

Wow. I'm impressed.

The dead gods spoke.

Techno couldn't respond.

We couldn't have gotten a stronger suitor to carry on her will.

Her spirit, if you will. 

n̵̢̧̖̜̤̜̗̬̠̟̥̆͐͑͆͊͂̿̋̄͝͠ͅǫ̶̙̞̱͓̬̳̟̀̍̌͠͝ͅo̴̧̘̗̮͊̄̓͂̅͆̌̑̚͠o̷̡̳̟͋̓̇̂̇̐͝͝o̴̡̧͍͚̯̟̪̙͕͚̱͖͊ô̸̝͒ǫ̴̛̛̖͚̤͔̫̭̣̩̘̊̒͐̅̆̆͘͘̕ȏ̷͉̂̋͌̈̕o̴̞̰̓͋̔̒͝͠o̴̦̩͚͂ö̵̡̘̹̟͕̻͕̻̰́͌͒̇͒͒̄o̸̻͖͕̦̱̜̜̾͛̇ ̵̗̲̣͎̞̤̱̳͗̆̈͋͑̍̋́͊̏̕͠͝h̷̲̝̰̭͔̘̪̮̫̒͂̉̊̐͘͠͝ͅȏ̵͙̟͚̼̥̩̟̫͕͊̔͐̃́̒̉w̶̺͉͒͛͘̚ ̸̨̧̺̜͉͓̟͇̟͂͑̈́̌̏d̸̨̪̊͆̈́̽̆͆̈́͒̈́́͐̎͝a̷̲͖͚͉̬̤̒̔̀̈́̿r̵̢̧̗͓̪͈̪̮̭̹͉͌̋͝ȩ̷̧̟̠͍͈̳̺̰̺̬̱͒͋̽̈́̕͜ ̷̛̲͇͙̬͈̞̿̐̒̉̋͋̆̿̄͐̏̕ͅy̵̡̼̬̺̞͚̺̬͍͕̞͒͛̓̑ͅơ̶̱͎̝̇̍̅͐̽̆̈́̊͆͋͂u̶͕̰̿̇̈́̓͂͌̿̆̋̽͗̕͝ ̷̯̤͌͂̃ț̴̩̤̙̮̘̝͂̀͆̉̎̈́̕̕͘͘͜h̸̝̬̙̳̯̲̬̩̰̙̑̆̏͆͌͊͌͋̍̌̉͘͠ͅĩ̴̻̥̙̽̏̋̈́̀̕s̴̨͕̮͇̳̗̤̺͍̥̠̿̅̋͛͐ ̶̩̰̗̲̍̅̚i̴̧̨͙̦̲̙͖͙̥̪͚͙̋̈̀͋͛͒͋̆͆͐̓̚ͅs̸̛̪̻̯̦̣̐̀̅̂̚n̵̥̮̆͌̌͛̔͋͌͌'̶̡̢̢̢̨̢̬̞̣̞͎̬̜͒̅́͂̐̓̉̈́̔̎͘ţ̶̈́̏͒̈́̿͂̑̽̂̀͊ ̸̡͓̼̣͖̥̓̏̊́̍̅͋̓̽̌̐̕̚f̷̪̺͇̏̅̀ͅͅą̸̳̥͕͚̤̿̃̋̾̿̒̃̏̋̚̚͘͝i̷̡̱̍͊̈̿̃͐̿̽͑̊͑̚ŕ̵̟͙͍̠̘̹̯̟̒̓ ̴̢̪̣̙̂̑̽̒̉͆̂̂̉͌̔͜t̴͖̞̘̅̒̒ḩ̵̛̛̗̦̼͖̙̃̈́̇̍̚͝ĩ̷̛̪̖̗̠͕̗͖̯͕̬͇̞̐̓̋́́̈́̐͛͛ͅs̴̡̨̯̹̜̻̬̹̩̫̘̩̗͛̒̾͘ ̴̢̛̘̦̬͈͉̺̗̙̣̻̄̌̀i̴̛̟̯̘̖̐̄̒̎͒s̸̛̟̙̮̣̘̹̰̘͂̏͗̏̀͋̾̈́̅̚n̶̜̝̦̈́̑̄́͗͗'̶̧̡̫̝͚̩̯͇̗͈͜ṯ̷͙͉̱͍̥̯͍͔̮͒͑̍̿͐̈́͝ ̴̫͍̲̱͖̋̇͛́̇̏̍̈́͌̄̈͒͘f̶̺̦̳̮̈͌̂̓̄͗̅́̌̈́̎a̷͍̱͓͆͊i̴͍̩̗͜r̸̜̙̽̆ ̸̧̢̥͓͖̞͚̫͉̲̭̽̇̔̾̿̈́́̆͌͘t̵̺͇̻̫̬̥̪͌̊͌̄͑̇̏͜͜h̶͉̍̌͑i̶̛͔̹̮̣̠̝̣̜̻̗̙̞̾̊̂̇̔̈́͌̚͝ş̷͎̐̆̔̃̈̆̇̕͠͝͠ ̵̢͕͓̞͉͆̀̋̚i̵̫̣̻̅̆͆̔̀͂̉̓̏̚ŝ̴̪̜̦͓̩͔̦͔̗̬̲͉͂̊̃͋̎͗̅ͅņ̷̨̹̦͔͛̈́̏̕'̸̛͓͎̗͍̹̩̼̌̋͋̅͐͜͝t̷̜͔̱̙̤̉͐̊̿͘͜

The spirit screamed, but it sounded like it was outside his head and not tearing apart his very being. It wasn't inside him anymore. It wasn't ripping him apart. 

Ahh... that's quite a long time that you held up against our follower. Even managed to kick them out.

Kick them out?

Very impressive, for a mortal.

We may be able to make a god of you yet.


	26. Council

Dream was adjusting his suit, hands shaking slightly. He never usually dressed this nice. It was somewhat an act of rebellion, wearing normal clothes like his hoodie that most nobles were appalled by. It was one of the few acts of defiance he was actually allowed to get away with, despite the tight reins that his parents tried to wrap around him. He sighed in frustration as he couldn't buckle the royal armor on correctly. The metal was an intricate piece of light armor, slight carvings embedded into the silver. The suit itself complemented the armor perfectly, the whole outfit looking natural together as layers of fabric surrounded the traditional ceremonial pieces. A high collar gave Dream some comfort; him not used to not having the usual weight of his hood not on his shoulders.

"Need some help with that?" Sapnap came from behind, the reflection in the mirror coming up on his back.

"Ugh. Yeah." He grumbled, defeated. When he was younger, he had maids, but by the time he had hit puberty he said no thank you to that. It was something he had to fight his parents on, but he got away with it by promising to do whatever they asked him to do and not skip his tutoring classes. It sucked, but it was worth it. But that also meant that when he did have to dress up for whatever reason, he had to do it all by himself. And some of the outfits he wore got complicated. Lucky for him, he always had Sapnap.

Sapnap was good with all the rules and regulations. Sure, Dream had gotten the best instructors and the best tutors, but Sapnap went through the hardest and strictest training that a soldier could possibly go through. When Dream was learning politics at age ten, Sapnap was learning how to saddle a horse in war armor and how to kill somebody with a well placed crossbow shot. Dream didn't see that side of him that much, most of the time when they were in private he relaxes considerably like when they were kids, young and running around in the courtyard, Dream's nanny yelling at them to get their asses back inside and them defiantly running and hiding like it was some sort of game. That was such a long time ago. And that carefree Sapnap was the Sapnap Dream saw most of the time. But he could switch on a dime, and definitely knew how to do all the little gritty details like how to put on this stupid ceremonial armor correctly. He probably had to even do drills over it, probably getting cleaning duty if one thing was out of place. Dream had sat in on the soldier training sessions. Those things were wack. It might be just as crazy what his parents expected of him. He had to give props to Sapnap.

"Thanks." He mumbled, dreading the conversation he was about to have with his parents.

He still heard the last confrontation in his head.

"We are having guests over. We will be addressing something important. Please don't come dressed in your ridiculous commoner clothes. One more step out of line-"

"Hey" Sapnap broke him from his trance, "Do you need your mask? Your looking a bit stressed."

Dream tried to relax, glad he had Sapnap always there watching out for him. "Yeah. Yeah probably."

Sapnap wordlessly reached over the counter to where his mask was lying. Dream had gotten better and better at having it off, finding it easier to just chill with Sapnap, but stress from his parents were making him come close to snapping back to when things were like before... before he had gotten a better hold on his condition. Dream took it graciously, slipping it on just as the doors open.

"Oh my~" the familiar voice said. "Boy do you look stiff as a board." His sister teased him, standing in the open door frame. His sister wore a short and detailed dress, layers of green colored fabric like their national flag. She had a elegant cape that flowed behind her like a sheer bridal train, the tips just barely billowing just above the floor. And on her chest she wore an custom tailored armor plate and silver arm guards detailed just like Dream's.

"Princess." Bowing his head, Sapnap officially recognized her. Sapnap smirked at Dream, unable to deny the fact that Dream sure was tense as all get out.

Dream rolled his eyes, immediately feeling a bit better. "Hey! You would be nervous too if they summoned you like they did to me."

Drista pranced around his huge room, before falling in an exaggerated flop onto his bed. "Really? And what did they say?"

Dream didn't answer, instead finding himself suddenly very busy with fixing his hair that was getting a bit long. His parents had told him to cut it. So naturally he was growing it out.

"Said something about him not dressing like a hobo, that's for sure." Sapnap joked, grabbing Dream's thin metal crown that was nothing fancier than a circlet, one that was almost identical to the Princess'. After placing it on Dream's head and taking a step back to make sure it was level, he mumbled to himself. "There." He took in his handiwork, "All done."

Dream looked at himself in the mirror as Sapnap stepped away. He didn't- he didn't look like himself.

"Almost done." Drista walked up to him, before slipping off her own cape and re-hooking it around her brother's neck. It pulled the outfit together nicely. "For good luck. Cuz' you're gonna need it." She smiled, smacking him in the shoulder.

His stomach rumbling nervously, he couldn't agree more. He definitely was going to need it.

>{}<

Walking closer and closer to the throne room, Dream felt the confidence he had gained from his sister and Sapnap fading. They had let him walk alone, nothing stopping him but the guards who patrolled the hallways bowing to him as he passed. He wished he had Sapnap beside him for support. He didn't want to face his parents alone.

"We want you to take up your position as King." The words were on constant replay in his head. "We want you to stop acting like a child and take responsibility for this nation."

Dream held his breath as the guards swung open the doors for him, the grand hall opening before him. His father sat next to his mother, side by side in the throne room.

He walked in, crossing the stone floors and green beams of tinted light coming through giant stained glass windows from either side of the room. Stopping at the middle of the floor where you were supposed to stand before the royalty, he bowed his head, the traditional way he had been raised to address his parents when they were in ruling.

"Mother. Father."

"You may rise." His father's voice rang out. There was no audience here but the guards and servants, and yet he insisted that they default to traditionalities.

Dream was glad he had his mask, glad that he could control the face it projected onto it.

"You remember the gala we had on the first of this month?"

Dream shivered, wondering where this was going. He missed the comfort of his giant sweatshirt, uncomfortable in the suit he was forced to wear.

"I do, Father."

"Do you remember all the guests that came that night?"

Dream thought back, wracking his head. Memories of the ball room, guests of nobles, oh god it was so long ago. He remembered the giant sheer curtains that billowed in the open windows as he stood out on the balcony, talking to somebody in the cool night air.

The person. His white suit. The blue cape that hung off one shoulder. His brown bangs and genuine smile. His glasses and silver sword on his hip.

He hated all formal events, but this person he had talked to had been pleasant company.

Oh, what was his name?

"Yes. I do, Father."

It was eating him up on the inside now. Why couldn't he remember the dudes name?

The King opened his mouth as to say something, but then paused and thought for a bit, before waving his hand and dismissing all the guards in the room.

Dream's breath caught.

He was in trouble.

He quickly thought of everything that happened that night. What did he do wrong?

He watched all the guards march out, the stone door closing behind him like the closing of prison doors.

"As I was saying, the gala was an opportunity that me and your mother had put together for you to meet some future candidates for your royal council."

Dream immediately understood. There was something suspicious about that party. Too many people of too much power, not enough in between ground. His parents had been acting weird about it too, insisting that he talked to every single person there. And their constant pressure for him to take more responsibility in running the nation was becoming more intense lately.

"A council is most important to helping a King take care of his duties and relieving the workload. You, of course, don't need to set up an entire council overnight, but it's time that you start thinking about it. The gala was just to let you have a taste of who you could have. It was to have you test the waters. You will have people from my council who will gladly join yours as well, so you will also have to look at mine. But, you do need to be looking for younger people your age that can form a strong unbreakable bond between yoy and them to hold the utmost national security. These bonds need to not only be forged over time, but based off of pure character. You'll need to pick only the best people. People who you can trust more than anything. People who you can spend the rest of your life with. It is how me and your mother met, her starting on my council. And you'll need to find specific people for specific positions as well." The King took a second to look at Dream, who was frozen in place and couldn't move an inch. "You may already have somebody in mind for the ruler of defense."

Dream's mind was moving a thousand miles per hour, analyzing what exactly was happening. "Do- do you mean Sapnap?"

"Do not stutter." Dream's father raised his voice. "But, yes. I know that soldier would die for you. He graduated top of his class, and continues to prove himself an excellent mind. We could put him in training under the sergeant and get him prepared for what duties he would have to perform, if you so think he would be a good addition to your future council."

Dream didn't respond.

His father had been pushing this idea that he needed to take the throne, and he needed to take it now. Dream didn't understand why; his father was still in his prime. But deep inside, he did know why. It just scared him.

His father thought he would die.

"Do you think he will be a good addition to the security of this nation?"

Dream was brought from his thoughts, the encapsulating fear that his own father didn't believe that he could live long enough to rule this nation to actually do anything. That he was pushing him while he was so young, pushing for him to put to use the power the Gods had given this nation before they were gone. "Uh- yes."

"What did I say about stuttering?" The King frowned at him. "I thought you said you were getting better."

"Yes. Father." Dream corrected himself, grinding his teeth. He wished he had his hood. He needed something on his head, he felt so exposed without his hood up.

"If I believe correctly the healers said you were getting well enough to take your mask off around people you knew."

Dream's entire body tensed up.

He didn't want to.

It was dangerous.

But he had to.

If not...

Reaching up and removing his mask with shaking hands, he focused all his energy into relaxing. He couldn't afford to go into another meltdown. He forced himself to think of something else, to be somewhere else. But every time he tried to disappear into memories of traveling with Sapnap, he was just dragged back into the cold room where he stood, feeling so small. He brought his hand down, his mask hanging limply in his hand by his waist. He couldn't look at anything but the floor right in front of him.

Breath.

Take deep breaths.

"The guests will be arriving around noon. Please be ready not only to analyze each guest's potential for sharp minds, but also undying loyalty. You will take this into serious consideration. You will not blow this off. This isn't something that is in the distant future, something you can run away from and go adventuring to avoid your problems."

"Now go. Have Sapnap fix you up a bit. You look ridiculous."

Dream was grateful for the dismissal, almost melting in relief as he was allowed to put his mask back on. He strode away, head held high until he reached the doors.

As soon as he was out of the view of his parents, he let out deep breaths of exhaustion.

He was so close-

So close to a meltdown.

It was getting to easy to trigger those nowadays.

It took all his willpower to not just run away. Run away to the confines of his friend, of his safety.

He had until noon.

He had two hours.

Hopefully that would be enough time to get himself under control.

>{}<

Dream sat at the head of the table at the giant picnic that was set up outside in the beautiful courtyard, a green expanse of stone paths, hedge mazes and ivy growing up carved statues of past kings. To his left was Sapnap, to his right his sister. But it didn't help any. He was freaking out.

Because right in front of him, at various different tables and various different activities, were the people he was supposed to be judging.

Judging whether or not they would lose everything for him.

Whether or not they would die for him.

Dream felt like such a fraud. He didn't even want to be king.

He didn't want to-

The people all milled around and Dream could feel the power radiating around him. When he was younger, he didn't understand why people couldn't just feel the constant, calming humming of magic. But today it didn't feel comforting. Today it felt like a buzzing of anticipation, build up of anxiety ready to blow up at any moment.

Dream still wore his ceremonial clothes, his sister lounged very unwomanly next beside him in her matching green dress.

She looked so much more at ease than he did. But Dream had his mask on. So he didn't need to worry too much about his nauseated expression.

That's what he told himself.

"Aye," Drista said between stuffing her mouth with picnic sandwiches. "You gonna eat any?"

Dream barely heard her. The throbbing of power in his ears was constant and jumbled together, but he tried to pick apart where each hum was coming from. He was trying to connect magical power to person. Like putting faces to names.

"He's too busy looking for possible recruits." Sapnap answered, leaning forward to see around Dream's stick straight posture. "Ya here? I got a promotion!"

"Really! Congrats!"

"Yeah apparently I'm going to start training-"

Dream tuned out the voices, instead finally picking up on a humming. It was a gentle hum, a soothing one. He closed his eyes and tried to picture it. It would be- the color would be purple. He decided. The texture would be like a soft carpet. He reached out, pressing a bit with his chaotic and explosive power, a power that in his head was neon green and sharp to the touch.

He watched as one of the women standing in a group, glass in hand turned and looked to him suddenly, confusion in her black eyes.

Ah. It was a potion maker. Dream judged her based on her outfit. She wore black clothes, dark colors perfered for a lot of potion makers because of experimental mishaps and stains. She had a decorated satchel that when Dream concentrated, could tell it was filled with magical artifacts. She might be a historian as well. She had fluffy hair, pulled up into an afro around her head, a circlet headdress peeking out from the coils and complementing her appearance well.

Dream didn't know if he liked her. He barely remembered her from the last party.

"Sapnap. Who is that?" He said, breaking Sapnap and his sister's conversation.

Sapnap had studied all the profilings they had on the people who were coming as soon as he knew guests would be over. He had organized all the soldiers powers to specifically counteract any attack on Dream.

Not like he couldn't defend himself.

"Who?" He immediately sat up, dropping the previous conversation entirely.

"Lady in the black robes, afro."

"Oh. That's Nahina Nagrina of Aramore. She's a prodigy potions master, scholar at the academy there. I don't remember the name. Her father is the headmaster."

Drista shoved more food into her mouth. "Ooooh~ Looking at the ladies are we?"

Dream ignored his sister's comment, his tone serious. "She's not of noble blood. She must be somebody whose family has built their reputation. She doesn't have that strong of magic either." Means she had to work for the position she was at. Or maybe her father was the one who did all the work for her

Sapnap nodded, writing some notes on a piece of paper that he had next to him. "Want me to add her to the list of people we are considering?"

Dream thought about it a bit. "Sure. Make sure I go and talk to her before this is over."

"Wow," Drista teased him, poking his arm. "That's a first. You've been pretty stingy with who you want to talk to so far."

She was right. Dream was being very careful. He only considered people that he thought would be absolutely valuable in skill and morality. In the beginning, when he had made the opening toast, just by watching how the people toasted was enough to get some of them off of his consideration list. He needed this to be perfect. Because this was to be his cabinet.

In his heart, he knew he was maybe being too picky. He subconsciously wanted nobody to be able to fill these spots. Because if they weren't filled, maybe then nobody was good enough for him. In some way, he would twist it so that he could get out of the job. Maybe he could just throw away his life and travel the world, adventuring and discovering new horizons before he died.

That's all he wanted.

He had been thinking about it.

Drista would make a good ruler.

Drista wanted the crown.

He was-

He could-

Dream's thoughts stopped in their tracks. He felt something he never felt, except that one night. The absence of a hum. A void.

The first time he felt it he had been drawn to it. Drawn to the balconies with no explanation.

Standing up, without any warning, Sapnap and Drista both made noises of protest as he threw his chair back.

But he needed to go to it.

"Aye!" Sapnap scrambled to get his stuff together, grabbing the clipboard of paper and putting his sword back on his hip. "Wait-"

Dream kept striding forwards, causing people to quiet as he strode through the crowds for the first time.

He saw him.

He saw the back of his head, not noticing the commotion behind him as he continued to talk, engrossed in the small group he was in that was having a conversation.

Dream didn't understand what he was doing. He was moving on instinct.

"Hello, ladies and gentleman." Dream cleared his throat, causing the group to turn and look at him.

It was a group of five, two ladies and three men, all dressed like nobles. All of them shocked that the Prince had just came to talk to them. They all bowed their heads in respect, but Dream wasn't looking at them. He was looking at the one person who wasn't bowing, mouth agape slightly.

It was him.

It was the man he had met at the gala.

"Uhh-" He stumbled, before coughing into his hand. He broke through his shock, shaking his head and bowing his head. "Your Majesty."

"Please, please relax." He smiled, raising his hands in a comforting motion. "There is no need."

The people stopped bowing, looking up at him mystified.

Dream's reputation seemed to precede himself.

Dream used the mask like a shield. He used it to appear more confidently than he actually was. If only he was wearing casual clothes...

"How is the party fairing so far?" A question to ask to be a good host. His mother had taught him all about mannerisms and hosting.

Sapnap finally joined him, standing intimidatingly as a protective body guard should. But it wasn't helping the talkativeness.

One of the women gathered enough courage to reply. "It's a wonderfully delightful picnic. The courtyard is absolutely stunning."

Dream smiled, despite none of them being able to see it.

He only really wanted to talk to one person.

"George, was it?" Dream asked, the name popping back into his mind. How could he have forgotten?

"Yes, your Majesty." The brunette bowed his head slightly again.

"You remember the balconies?"

He looked taken a bit aback. "Yes. Yes of course your majesty."

"I was getting a bit crowded down here." That wasn't a lie. More than a hundred people wandered around him, hoping to catch his attention in various different ways. "Would you like to escape with me?"

This must've been crazy for him. The Prince he had only heard stories of, remembering him from that small conversation they had, singling him out of a crowd of hundreds of very talented people. Nobody even knew what this was for in the first place. They didn't even know they were all being judged. But still, they all wanted to impress the Prince.

"I- I would love to." George needed to take this opportunity. He was the Prince.

Dream laughed, despite his stomach turning. "It's okay to take a few minutes to compose yourself. I'll wait for you up there. "He glanced over at one of the balconies overlooking the court yard. "Until we meet again, it was a pleasure." He gave a formal bow to them, one hand across his chest and one behind his back. "Good day ladies and gentlemen, hope you enjoy the rest of the party."

Dream walked away, hoping nobody could see his shaking hands.

"Dude, what was that?" Sapnap whispered under his breath, informal language as they walked towards the castle, so he could head up to the balconies.

"I don't know."

But Dream knew.

He knew that George was perfect.

He had to be on his council.

>{}<

Dream anxiously waited at the balcony, his back to the crowd below as Sapnap ran over George's profile with him.

"He's the son of a powerful mage and governor of Millstone in the Eastern Dream Lands. He is 18 years old, our age. He seems to be all human blood, he's not fae, but his family powers aren't from an outsource. Their bloodline has a unique ability that's been labeled as being a "conduit" or a "medium", which means that he can, through meditation and self alignments, channel any magical energy around him." Sapnap recited what he could remember off the top of his head. "It was a pain to plan for. I specifically remember being worried about him, you can't really have a good match type to counteract his magic. Other than just a magic nullifier, but we already have those." It was true, they always had magical nullifiers on hand in case of emergencies. "But the best way to plan against him was just to have a skilled swordsman tag on him and always constantly be just following him. It was the only way that I could see around him being a threat. We have one guard on the ground, two archers from the towers. Their only job is watching him."

"Huh." Dream thought, crossing his arms and leaning on the stone balcony railing. "That's a dangerous power."

"Why- why did you take a sudden interest in him like that?"

"I- I just remembered him from the gala. Remember when I gave you the slip and disappeared for like ten minutes? It was to go talk to him."

"What?! That's where you were? You just said you were going to the bathroom when you came back. You almost gave me a heart attack. I'm in charge of your wellbeing." Sapnap stood straight, not allowed to properly relax while on duty.

"You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"It's not that!" Sapnap exclaimed, exasperation on his face. "I know you can beat up any bitch that you needed to. But for ME. I would get DEMOTED!"

Dream laughed, tension leaving his shoulders. "Ohhhh- so you're not worried about me in the slightest, are you! You're such a good friend."

"Dream- Dream common." Sapnap smiled back. "You know-" His voice dropped off, as he stared behind Dream. Dream looked to see what he was looking at.

It was George. He stood in the middle of the double open glass balcony doors, a hand lingering on the glass as he had pushed it open, wind picking up the long curtains and fluttering them by his side. George had the queasy dumbfounded look on his face that he was trying so hard to compose as he adjusted his glasses, running his fingers in his brown hair as he did so. He didn't wear the white suit like last time, instead a fancy white dress shirt and brown dress pants, with a more simplistic decorative cape that hung off of one shoulder. Dream noticed that he was a bit short, but not too short. More like average. Whatever the case Dream was definitely taller than him.

"Your Majesty." He bowed his head again.

"No... no please call me Dream." Dream leaned on the railing the other way, his back pressed against the cold stone and his elbows resting on it as well, causing him to slump down a bit.

George swallowed, uncomfortable like a kid brought in after school to talk with the teacher. "My apologies... Dream."

Sapnap stood still off to the side, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Dream's social savvy went out the window. He was still taking in him, watching the way the natural light lit up his silver detailing on his cape chain. "Yup."

Sapnap leaned into Dream, talking under his breath. "Dude- chill, don't be so informal the King-"

"So George," Dream talked over Sapnap. Shaking off his inquisitive haze, he was instilled with new confidence, being alone and away from the crowds, the thrill of feeling like he was doing something wrong exhilarating, "Do you remember what we talked about up here? That night?"

George shifted the weight on his feet, clearly uncomfortable and stiff. "No. My apologies, your Majesty."

"What?! You met me- the future King of this nation-"

"No- no it's not that-" George started to panic, putting his hands out slightly in defense.

Dream started to laugh. He couldn't believe it. He didn't know why he thought it was so funny- it just was. So many people treated him like he was above human. Treated him like he was on a pedestal. Nobody had just forgotten him before.

"Oh my Gods!" He heard George gasp as he doubled over in laughter. "Did I- is he having a heart attack?!"

That only made Dream laugh harder. He was sure he was getting looks from the courtyard down below, his laughter not exactly quiet.

Sapnap chuckled, "No- that's just- that's just his laugh."

Dream's hysterical wheeze calmed down, and he stood back up, tears coming from his eyes that nobody could see.

Sapnap nudged him with his arm, a casual show of affection. "I swear to God that you think the stupidest crap is so funny-"

George stood there in shock. He didn't know what just happened. And the guard- the guard had just touched him so casually...?

"Oh my God. I'm overheating." Dream smiled, laughter remnants still in his voice. He reached up and tried to undo a button on his formal collar a bit.

George just watched in confusion. This had to be a fever dream.

"Screw this." Dream frustratingly giving up with fumbling with his clothes. "Hey, wanna follow me?" He said, walking past both men and back inside the castle.

Sapnap followed, unbothered by Dreams seemingly insane antics. George on the other hand, felt like he was in hell. This was the future King. He was insane. One wrong step- one wrong move- he could end him with a snap of his fingers.

"You following?" Dream looked back at him, his cape flowing behind him.

"Yes, your Majesty."

>{}<

Dream didn't know what his objective was. He just knew he was having so much fun.

He felt so alive.

Something he had felt so little of nowadays.

"So, back to the balcony talk that you don't remember."

"Uhh-" George hurried to keep up, his shorter legs and his ability to get distracted by all the intranet art in the halls not a good combo. "I actually do remember that night, but I just don't remember what we talked about. It was all mostly, oh my gosh I'm talking to the Prince right now."

Dream smiled. George was perfect for the council. His parents would be so happy he had found somebody. "It's Dream. Not your Majesty."

"Yeah. Okay, uhhh- Dream." George averted his eyes, unable to look at him properly.

Sapnap laughed at his discomfort. "So I'm assuming you've already chosen him?"

"Chosen what?" George asked, trying to follow as fast as he could. Guards watched them as they strode by. George had never been around so much sheer power before.

"Nothing, its not important." Dream talked over his shoulder. "At least, not yet."

George didn't like the sound of that.

Dream slowed down a bit, his pace a bit quick from the adrenaline of feeling accomplished. He seriously thought that this was going to work. He wanted George on his team. Because of something about him, that night on the balcony, the conversation they had. "Well, that night on the balconies, you said... some pretty insightful things. I thought about what you said a lot."

That wasn't a lie.

George's face got hot. He was being complimented by the Prince-

"I- I was probably just trying to sound smart." He awkwardly tried to laugh it off, not knowing how to take the compliment, especially from somebody of such high power.

"No. What you said was smart." Dream insisted, turning more corners in the beautiful castle. George could swear he could smell burning candles of vanilla. "We had talked for a bit. Not a long while, but enough to leave a lasting impression on me. It was a weirdly deep conversation I will admit, but I had asked you a question and this had been your response. 'The most tragic cages are the cages that nobody can see. Nobody can touch. The despair that even if you can see the outside, even if you can physically step outside the doors, you were still trapped, encapsulated by the unseen."

George was in shock. He had remembered what he had said... word for word.

Even Sapnap looked at Dream weird. "What a weird fucking conversation. Those words really struck a chord with ya, huh buddy?"

Buddy?- the guard had just called the Prince-

"Hmmm." Dream avoided commenting on what the guard had just said.

What was George supposed to say to that? The fact that he'd forgotten his assumed once in a lifetime personal talk with the Prince, but the Prince had remembered his words perfectly. What could he even say to Dream?

Luckily, George was saved from talking. Dream stopped walking in his tracks, George stumbling a bit at the sudden stop.

"Well, we're here."

"Where is here?" George timidly asked.

"My bedroom."

>{}<

George sat stiffly on the leather couch, his body screaming of nerves.

To say the least, he was freaking out.

He was in the Prince's bedroom-

It was beautiful and grand, just like the rest of the castle, but it definitely had a very distinct aura of the Prince. You couldn't tell right away, but little details and memoirs across the room made it very much his.

"Almost done!" He heard Dream yell from behind the divider. The room was split off into sections. It had a living room, and a bed chambers, and a changing quarters and a whole literal spa as a bathroom.

George clenched his hands, trying to stay calm. Just behind that divider, Dream was changing clothes, out of the fancy attire that Dream had said was "suffocating him."

George thought back to what he had said.

"Well. Gonna change clothes now. I'm so hot. Sapnap, wanna help me with these god awful straps?"

Georges entire body and soul went ridged. "Do you- do you want me to wait outside?"

Sapnap had smiled, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "Na, there's plenty of room. You can just go sit on the couch."

So George had sat on the couch.

Dream had to be insane.

"Alrighty!" He heard Dream yell at him. And he turned around just in time to see him step from behind the divider, arms wide open. "How do I look?!"

George was taken aback. He was wearing-

Commoner clothes.

Maybe George had been reading him wrong. Maybe what he had taken as a maniac episode, was really just him being weirdly.... Humble? In a way? Maybe?

He was definitely different than any noble he had met before.

Dream walked up to him before sitting on the plush rug on the floor, Sapnap now out of his armor as well flopping onto the couch opposite like he owned the place.

George couldn't comprehend-

"So glad to be outta that crap. Eats away at my skin." Dream said to no one in particular, before training his eyes on George. "Do you want to change as well? I have more sweatshirts."

Humble? Or insane? That is the question.

George rubbed the back of his neck. "Uhhh- actually- Thank you. But I'll pass."

"Your loss." Sapnap mumbled under his breath.

It felt like a fever dream. He must be on drugs. Never in his entire life, would he thought that this would be happening. If somebody told him one day he would sit across from the future King, wait, scratch that, the future King sit before him on the floor, in his bedroom he invited him to, he would've never believed it. And the dynamic between the guard and Dream, it was something unusual. Normally nobles had a very professional relationship with their guards. But Dream was treating his head body guard like a brother.

The two were a weird pair.

George looked over as he felt an inflections of magic, watching as Sapnap held out his hands and played with a tiny flame inbetween his fingers.

"Wait-" Dream dragged his attention away from the flame, "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" George squirmed.

"You- you looked at Sapnap before he used his magic!" Dream got up on his knees, getting closer to George.

"Wait- uhh-" What was he supposed to say?

"Did ya?!" Dream looked up at him with almost puppy like excitement.

"Uhhh-" George shifted his eyes nervously. "Uh yeah. I did."

"Oh my Gods!" Dream hopped up, towering over George who was sitting on the couch. "I thought I was the only one!"

"Wait-" George forgot about his anxiety, focusing on the exciting turn of events. "You feel it too?"

Sapnap sat up on the couch opposite of them, watching the two get excited.

"Yes! I thought- I thought nobody else could do that!"

"Well, everybody on my Mom's side can. It's called being a medium."

"Can you hear the humming too?!"

George's excitement slowed. "Humming?" He pondered, thinking what that could possibly be.

"Yes! The humming! It's constantly always in my ears, the little vibrations of magic making little noises. Different magic sounds different, has different feelings, different smells different textures-"

George finally got what he was saying. "Oh my God yes! But its not constant for me! Its only when I'm aligning with something."

Dream turned around to face Sapnap. "See! I'm not crazy!"

"Congrats. But you're still a lunatic even if the hums aren't something you're making up." Sapnap joked, one arm resting on the back of the couch. "You're just a lunatic in many different ways. I have plenty of options left to pick from."

George couldn't believe how casual the two were.

Dream scoffed, ignoring Sapnap and turning back to George. "Could you align to something a describe it? So we can see if it really is the same."

"Uhh-" George stuttered. This was the King's son- the amount of pressure- if he messed up-

"Please? Please? Pleeeeaaaassssseee?"

George couldn't even comprehend the Prince begging him to do something.

"Uh- yeah I guess?"

Dream pumped a fist in the air, one of his strands of hair falling out from under his hood. "Hell yeah! Let's do this!"

George's face was getting hot from being put on the spot. "Oh- Do you want me to do it right now?"

"YES!" Dream's mask switched faces, unsettling George slightly.

George really didn't have a choice. Well here goes nothing. "Well uh- what do you want me to try to conduct?"

"Whatever is easiest?" Dream didn't really care. He was just excited that he wasn't the only person in the world who experienced this. He knew George was special. He knew he was perfect for the council.

"Oh. Okay." George closed his eyes, reaching out into the 'space'. The space was the name that George had given the place he goes to when he's meditating. It's like everything is there, but not there. It was hard to explain. Instead of solid objects, the space is just a combination of different auras and magical energy, magical energy that he could reach out and draw to him. He looked around in the 'space', feeling for something that would be easy to grab.

Dream watched as George sat and concentrated, his eyes closed. He studied every way his muscles moved, every way he shifted, every way that his face twitched as he looked in a space that they couldn't see. He was fascinated. George opened his eyes, and Dream searched them for any change in his eyes. He didn't notice anything different about him, until he opened his hand and held a tiny flame between his fingers, it dancing along his palm just like Sapnap had.

It was amazing.

Nobody he had ever met had been able to just change their natural alignment so easily.

"Wow." Sapnap moved beside Dream, watching George mimic his power.

George blushed, averting his eyes to the floor. It was unreal what situation he was in right now.

"What did it feel like?" Dream asked, watching the flame in George's hand.

George closed his hand into a fist, the tiny spark fizzling out. "Uhh- well, it's really hard to explain."

Dream's eyes got a far away look, as Dream continued on his own tangent. "Sapnap power's, it's not that hard for him. The color of thee magic is obviously orange. But like, not a normal orange. An orange that fades out to yellow at the edges, like a golden sunset. And the texture, the texture doesn't feel like harsh flames. It feels like how a warm bath does, hot and maybe a bit uncomfortable but mostly just relaxing, especially if you get used to it. And it smells like campfire, a night under the stars."

George sat, mystified. How could he just say what he felt so eloquently? "Wow. Nobody has ever been able to put it into words for me."

"Can you-" Dream started, thinking. "Can you describe how my magic feels?"

"I- I don't know, your Majesty. Wouldn't that be a sort of intrusion of privacy or something that I shouldn't be doing-"

"Its fine. Don't worry. And it's just Dream. Not your Majesty. Please, try to describe me and I'll describe you." He tried convincing George, despite how hesitant he was to do this. "Here, I'll even go first."

Dream closed his eyes, focusing again. "You feel, you feel hollow. It's unlike anything I've ever felt before. You don't even hum. You only hum when you have something inside of you. It's like you're a glass cup, you can just dip into any magic around you and fill it up. But that's so amazing. You have the entire world to choose what magic you want." Dream opened his eyes, looking up at George. "What does it feel like to be able to switch magic whenever you want?"

"Well..." George adjusted his glasses, trying to compose his emotions of stress. "I've never known anything else, so it just feels natural."

"Wow. Okay." Dream guessed that made sense. Just like how hearing the humming was always natural to him. "Now describe me."

George closed his eyes again, "You feel.... You feel like.... Well, your color is- it's hard for me to describe colors." George was struggling.

Sapnap curiously spoke up. "Wait, why?"

"Oh... I'm- I'm color blind." George blushed, embarrassed.

"Oh."

George continued talking, trying to brush past that point. "But to me I- I think it's green? Maybe? Or possibly yellow. But whatever it is, it's definitely bright. Like a pulsing power. It-" George really thought about what it felt like. "It feels like an all encompassing power, like as soon as you..." His voice trailed off. He was lost in the space. It sometimes happened when he was deeply focused. But he could feel himself letting go of Sapnap's powers. He felt the fire power leaving his body. And his hands itched for something else.

George felt the chaotic humming of Dream's power, and gave it a gentle pull. The way he would pull if he was trying to align to the power.

Dream jumped back, feeling the tug. "What are you doing?!"

"What happened?" Sapnap asked, drawing his sword like a bodyguard should.

"I'm sorry-" George stuttered, letting his grip go. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It was just a reflex."

"Don't do that." Dream's whole demeanor changed, his voice deadly serious. But something was off. Like he was scared. "Never do that again. Never. You- you are forbidden from touching my power."

Sapnaps eyes flicked between the two; he was a bit breathtaken from Dream's intimidating burst of aggression.

"I'm so sorry, your Majesty. I'm so sorry." George tried to fix his mistake. He was in big trouble.

Dream looked at George sitting on the couch, scared out of his mind. He realized just how that sounded. He realized the power difference between the two, how George must've felt like he was treading on eggshells the entire conversation. He softened his voice. "No. No it's alright. I didn't tell you. I'm sorry."

Suddenly the door swung open, no knock or anything. Drista strode in, a cupcake half eaten in her hand. She stopped to stare for a second, watching the scene before her. The room was frozen, tension thick in the air. Dream, changed out of his clothes, standing above this random noble he snuck away with sitting on the couch, Sapnap sitting on the floor.

It wasn't the weirdest thing Drista had walked in on.

There was that one time when she had found both Dream and Sap on the ceiling...

And that other time...

She didn't even want to think about it.

"Uh." Drista leaned on the doorframe. "Uhhh- well. Yo. Dad wants to talk to you."

Dream shook of what just happened. He needed to focus. This could be bad. "Wait- really?" Dream dreaded his sister's answer.

Drista often ran messages for Dream seeing how he didn't have any servants. But Drista was also known to mess things up and give him wrong information or even play pranks on him. He hoped this was a prank. "Yes dummy. Why would I pull your leg now?" She took a bite of the cupcake, getting frosting on the corners of her lips.

Dream didn't like this. He started to panic. No. This- this was bad.

"We'll be there in a second." Sapnap answered for Dream, placing a hand on Dream's arm.

"Arlight. Don't keep him waiting for long~" Drista sung as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Sapnap replied for him again. "We won't."

>{}<

Sapnap didn't like the fact that Dream had insisted that they took George to meet the King.

Dream had thoroughly apologized to George, not giving an explanation for his outburst but reassuring him it wasn't his fault.

George was back on his theory that the Prince was insane.

And Sapnap was worried for the both of them.

"Why- why do you think we need George? Wouldn't you think it would be better to just dismiss him? We can always call him back later." He hissed under his breath so that George, who was walking behind them, couldn't hear.

"I- I thought he would be a good distraction. Dad can't get fuming mad at me if there's an audience." Dream explained his thinking. He would use George as a buffer. He didn't have the emotional strength right now to hold up in a full blown argument.

"Don't you think that it might just make him more mad?!" Sapnap reasoned.

Dream mumbled something and stopped responding, instead focusing on just walking forward. As they passed the guards, Sapnap physically saw Dream's dread playing out across his body language as the men swung the throne room doors open.

The world was unnaturally still once again.

They entered the room, the King sitting alone on the intimidating stone chair, tinted green light raining in from the glass ceiling and particles of dust catching the light and glinting like fireflies in a pitch black forest. All three of them walked together and stood at the center of the room on the rectangular carpet leading straight to the throne, Sapnap crossing his hand over his heart in the salute, Dream bowing his head, and George bending down on one knee.

"You may rise." The King's strong and steady voice regally dismissed their formalities.

All three boys relaxed, George standing up from the ground.

Dream cleared his throat. "You summoned me, Father?"

His mother wasn't in the throne room anymore, and instead of the Queen's chair stood the King's bodyguards in their intricate royal guard armor. "Yes. We have many things to discuss. But it seems you have brought a guest with you."

Alright. His plan was working. Operation don't get yelled at was a go. Dream gestured to George, introducing him. "This is George of Millstone from the Eastern Dreamlands."

George bowed his head. "I am honored to meet you, your Highness."

The King waved his hand, almost playing him off as insignificant. "Why has he been brought here for our private conversation?"

Dream swallowed, making sure he didn't stutter while he answered. "I have chosen him for my council."

Sapnap caught his breath. Dream just went out and said it. He thought he'd at least wait a while longer. Maybe tell George first. The person who he was inducting? Just a thought.

George confusedly looked to Dream, shock written all over his face.

"Oh? You have?" The King grew suddenly more interested. "That is... exciting. But we have things to discuss." The King nodded to the guard to his left, the guard taking the signal to escort the unwanted guest out of the room.

Sapnap watched as the guard gently but firmly grabbed George's arm, turning him away.

Dream's heart sank. There goes his buffer.

"We will talk about him later." The King's words were foreboding and almost metallic. Like the cold silver armor he wore, even just sitting on his throne. Like the crown upon his head. The crown that Dream would wear someday.

George left with the guard with no resistance, sneaking once last look over his shoulder at Dream, who stood stiff and straight, like any moment he was going to be attacked.

George genuinely hoped everything was okay.

George didn't know what he exactly thought about Dream. He was probably insane. But George didn't like the way the King was speaking to him. He hoped nothing bad was going to happen.

Sapnap stood in perfect position like a soldier should, turning his face forward as the throne room doors closed with a thud, locking George out as Sapnap stayed perfectly quiet.

"So, back to what I called you in for." The King started once again.

Sapnap saw Dream brace himself.

He was holding his breath.

They hadn't even done anything wrong, at least to Sapnap's knowledge.

"Your behavior today has been inexcusable."

There it was.

Mission avoid being yelled at was a fail.

The King's words shocked Dream. What was he going on about? "W- what?" Dream couldn't stop himself.

The King's eyebrows furrowed as he explained, accusation in his voice. "I've heard from your head instructor who I sent to report back to me; I had asked him to analyze and grade your performance like it was an assigned project you might've had. And he didn't come back with good news. Said you were erratic, your speech was absolutely atrocious, your toast was messy, and you only talked to one person before you disappeared. People think you are a mad man, rash and emotional! For crying out loud, the event is still going!" The King raised his voice, clearly mad. "Not only that, but now I see you've changed clothes, dragging this new person you just met around the castle, probably taking him places he shouldn't be. I know how you work. I know you. You probably just picked the first person you took fancy of, out of spite of what I asked you of today. What I asked you to do is something sacred and special, something that shouldn't be taken lightly. What you are doing is childish and selfish. You need to start to take responsibility."

Sapnap cringed, feeling second hand pain from the scolding Dream was getting.

Sapnap waited for Dream to apologize, like he always did. For him to take the yelling, like how a subject should respond to the King.

Instead, Dream laughed a quick and snarky smirk, disbelief in his voice. "Did I not do what you ask me to do?! I found somebody for my council!"

Sapnap had to use all his willpower not to flinch. He had never seen Dream stand up to his father before.

The King sat there, his face getting serious. "Dream."

"No! Listen to me!" Dream took a small step forward, as if using the physical motion to help take his stand.

The King slammed his fist on his throne, the guards all standing a bit straighter. They had never seen Dream act this way. This was real. "You picked that person for your council in one day! In less than an hour! I told you you needed to start thinking about your council sooner than later but that didn't mean go pick members all willy-nilly!

"Are you distrusting my judgment! I just knew it would work!"

This wasn't the same Dream who accepted every punishment he ever gotten silently and complacently. This was the Dream that defied his parents in every subtle way he could. Little things that he could. His hair. His clothes. His room. But this was on a different level. Dream never yelled at the King, even in complete solitude with no audience. Dream always had a healthy respect and fear of his father. Now here he was, in an open throne room, yelling in front of at least a dozen of lose lips that would surely carry this gossip.

What had happened today?

What was different?

Sapnap was sweating. If fighting, real, physical fighting broke out, who would he defend? The King, and risk Dream getting killed by one of the King's guards in the fray, or would he try to stop Dream from doing something he regretted but being immediately labeled as a traitor for not choosing the King over Dream?

The King responded angerly, not liking this version of Dream. He wasn't the King for nothing. "No! You are being immature and childish! You have all this power, and yet you selfishly only use it for yourself and not the greater good of this nation!"

Dream laughed. "Oh- you want to talk about SELFISH! We can talk about SELFISH!" Dream threw his arms out, smiling like a madman. "Do we want to talk about the reason I'm like this? The reason why I can't even take off this goddamn mask without my body feeling like it's disintegrating? It's because of YOU AND MOM'S SELFISH SACRIFICES YOU MADE TO GET ME!"

The King stood, anger raising in his voice. "You are yelling confidential information in the middle of my open throne room. Consider your next words carefully."

It was silent.

This was the tipping point.

Please just apologize. Sapnap whispered in his head, wishing Dream could read minds. Please don't do something your going to regret.

"Fuck you."

Sapnap's entire body went rigid.

Dream you fucking idiot.

Why did he have to put me in situations like this?

He would defend Dream if there was fighting. He had made up his mind.

The King scowled at his son, pretending like he didn't hear the cussing. Pretending like he didn't hear the words that would get anyone else executed on the spot. "You know the reason why we asked for that. It was because our nation was crumbling. We needed a unifying figure. A power house to keep our nation together. Our lands were crumbling into sections, then either lost to the wilderness or consumed and destroyed by the neighboring countries. Is it selfish to want the best for our people? The gods gave me and your mother a second chance. And we are going to use this second chance, whether you like it or not!"

"How DARE YOU put all the responsibility on me!" Dream barred his teeth. His father just ignored him. Like he didn't matter. He wasn't his son. He wasn't even a person. He was just a tool. He was making it abundantly clear. "All of it! I'm still a teen! I'm 18! Do you think you were ready to rule at 18! You didn't take over until you were 29! 11 years! 11 years of difference!" Dream was his son. Why couldn't he just show any sigh of not even love, but appriciation of his existence? "How dare you put all your problems on me! Why didn't you take care of it before I was born!"

They now were both in a full blow yelling match. "Because we already caused too much damage. The people would never rally around us. They needed somebody who could be a legend, somebody who could be an idol to rally around. A GOD." The King threw his hands out accusingly, gesturing to Dream. "Me and your mother have done so much to build the image for you. But it's hard to get that image across when you act like a lunatic, dress like a commoner, and leave your reputation in shambles every time we make you show your face in the public eye! You have no idea how many strings we have to pull to keep the gossip down that your a complete mad man. You act like you have no responsibility! You are not a child anymore! You are the future King!"

Dream was heaving heavy breaths, the conversation physically exhausting him. It was eating up so much of his strength to stand up to his father.

The room was silent for a moment. Everybody was standing still. The servants hadn't moved an inch. It was as if any movement would result in an disastrous explosion.

"What if I don't want to be." Dream whispered.

"What?" The King gave him a second chance to think of what he was saying.

"What if I DON'T WANT TO BE THE NEXT KING?!" Dream let the thought that had been gnawing at him for months now out in the open. "Why does it have to be me?! I don't want to be KING! I DON'T WANT IT!"

The King slammed his sheathed sword on the ground, the boom echoing the room and rattling the grand black iron chandelier above their heads. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!"

Dream scoffed. He couldn't believe the audacity. Righteous rage fueled his veins, and Sapnap now was thinking about maybe dragging Dream out of here before he got himself into any permanent damage. Maybe it was already to late for that. "I'm going to DIE because of you. Die young because of your and mom's selfish decision. I just want to enjoy my years before I'm gone! Is that too much to ask?!" Sapnap could hear the desperate sorrow in his voice.

What was it George had said? The words that Dream had remembered word for word. A prison with no physical walls.

"No. You will find a way to live." The King said, his voice filled with absolute certainty.

"No! You don't believe that! You don't! Otherwise you wouldn't be forcing me to take the throne so fast!" Dream was crying now, Sapnap only just able to see his wet face through his side profile.

"That's not why-"

"Why, why, when you know I'm going to die, why do you insist on preparing me to be the King? Why not Drista? She's perfectly capable-"

The King cut him off. "Drista is the second born. Not blessed with the power you have. Nobody would ever take a woman ruler seriously."

Dream shook with rage, unable to take the slander of his sister. "Drista would make a way! If you hadn't noticed your own daughter yet, she's very much so an alpha force! You wouldn't have to worry about people respecting her! She would make them!"

The King dismissed his anger. "No. Leave your sister out of this. This is about you and your behavior right now."

Dream exploded, accidentally hitting Sapnap as he spread his arms out wide. "NO! NO! THIS IS ABOUT ALL OF US! I THOUGHT WE WERE TALKING ABOUT THE GOOD OF THE NATION HERE?!" The room pulsated with power. Sapnap could tell when Dream was about to go into a meltdown, even with his mask on. That had never happened before. But Sapnap had seen the normal meltdowns one too many times, seen the way that Dream writhed in pain as his entire body attacked itself. The guards felt it too. Sapnap started analyzing. He noticed they had no magic cancelers in the room, all of them on duty at the picnic party, but they did have a sleep expert. If worse came to worse the soldier would be able to slip Dream into a sleep state.

The King digressed, sitting back in his throne, his voice becoming level once again. "You're just a selfish immature child. When you grow up you will understand."

Dream's voice caught. "It's like you don't even care about me?!"

The King waved his hand. He was composed. None of the previous yelling match still in his veins. Instead was only cold, deadly and passive dismissal, like Dream was absolutely just an insignificant child who needed to be put back into his place.

"You are dismissed."

Dream couldn't believe it.

How dare he.

HOW DARE HE.

Murderous rage filled him.

He opened his mouth to continue, to tell him how fucked up he was, but his words fell in his throat.

His hands shook.

Something was wrong with him.

Something was wrong.

What was wrong?

Something was wrong something was wrong something was wrong something was wrong something was wrong-

Alarms lit off in Dream's head.

Somebody was here that wasn't supposed to be here.

Who are you?

Like a flip of a switch, Dream's rage dissolved into exhaustion.

He didn't feel like he was in his body.

His vision darkened as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Dream took a step back involuntarily.

Sapnap reached out quickly to catch him as he fell, Dream's knees hitting the floor before he could put hands on him.

The stained glass windows around them exploded, glass shattering from the ceilings and walls in a rain of ancient designs of colored shrapnel.

Screams.

The servants.

The guards all leapt to action, running to do something, to stop something, whatever explosion was going to happen next.

Nobody.

Nobody.

Nobody knew what was happening.

The last thing Dream felt was Sapnap pulling him in, hugging him protectively as shards of stained glass, glistening like diamonds, fell from the sky, raining down on them.

It was the last thing Dream saw before his world faded completely to black.

>{}<

Darkness enveloped him.

help?

H-HHHHH hello?

Wwwwnwnwhhhhoooo who aaaAa-areeeEee whO aRE yOu?

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

It was all around.

Darkness.

He couldn't escape it.

Time.

Time passed.

He couldn't think.

His head throbbed terribly.

He could barely even feel his own body.

He could barely just notice that he was lying down. Wherever he was.

Then something changed.

He felt a sharp pinch in his neck, and all the sudden he felt control over his body return.

His eyelids felt like a thousand pounds.

But yet he forced them open.

>{}<

Squinting from the blinding light around him, he saw blurry colors of movement above him as he tried to recognize what the hell he was looking at. The hum of magic was so loud in his ears, drowning out the sounds of his own racing heart. It was as if he didn't have a heart beat, like the only thing keeping him alive was the magic running through his body. His head throbbed with the beat, the headache the familiar friend that always accompanied him after he had a meltdown. Groggily he realized that was what must've happened. He must've had a melt down. He didn't remember why though. He could think. The last thing he remembered... was Drista. Drista clipping on his cape.

Wait.

No.

That was a lie.

He remembered George.

Dream could almost smile despite the pain.

Yeah. George.

>{}<

His eyes focused, and he saw the dark ceiling above him, stone walls in the cold room of dark marble. Ever square inch of the room was filled with stuff, shelves covered with what seemed to be potion supplies and materials. It was too much to look at.

He should recognize this room.

He knew he should.

His head hurt so bad.

His eyes couldn't focus on anything. Everything was blurry. Everything was muddled. Only one thing moving caught his full attention. Only a couple feet to his right was a man. At least so he thought. He still couldn't think properly, he didn't trust his eyesight.

"Good morning, your Highness."

Dream recognized the voice. It was the healer. The healer that always helped him after meltdowns. It had been a hot minute since he had last seen him. Ugh, what was his name?

Dream had seen him countless times, he knew he knew his name.

Why didn't he know his name?

But his head... something was wrong.

Dream scrunched his face, confusion as he tried to stretch and realized he couldn't move his arms. Turning his head, he saw them strapped to the table.

What the fuck?

Panic sharpened his senses. He looked to the healer, watching him hold up a potion bottle of blue liquid, examining the contents of the glass container.

But then Dream recognized somebody else.

"Sapnap? Sapnap?!" Dream barely could talk, his voice tight and gravely. "What- what's happening?"

His friend.

He remembered Sapnap.

help?

Sapnap grimaced, not responding, looking with a pained expression as Dream struggled weakly against his arm restraints. Two guards stood to the right and left of him, then some more at the door of the marble room. It was crowded. Normally when Dream woke up, usually only the doctor and maybe an assistant was in here. And on rare occasions his sister. Why were they all here?

"Please calm down, your Highness" The healer said soothingly, opening the bottle and ducking up the contents with a syringe.

Time

"What's going on?!" He had never woken up like this before. Something was wrong. "What- what's happening?! What-"

The doctor didn't respond, instead placing one hand on Dream's maskless face holding him still as he pushed the needle into his neck, the sharp pinch uncomfortable as the needle slid into his skin.

Dream felt all the fight leave him.

His eyelids were so heavy.

His body was so heavy.

He stopped fighting against the wrist restraints.

Who are you?

The healer gazed down at him calmly, talking slow and carefully. "Your in my laboratory right now, your Highness. We are taking care of you. Please do not struggle."

Dream coughed, his voice raspy as he tried to speak. His lips were numb. "Sapnap?" His voice was just above a whisper. "W-what's happening?"

The healer stood in front of his vision, blocking him from Sapnap. "He's not allowed to speak to you. Every guard in here is under an oath of silence." An oath of silence. A spell where the receiver consensual agrees to lose their ability to speak for a period of time, and anything they see during this period of time they, in the future, won't be able to talk about. Well, technically they can, but it would destroy their vocal cords. Such is the nature of the spell. It was a risky and dangerous spell, something most nations considered a bit inhumane.

Why?

Why did they need to do that?

Sapnap?

The healer turned his back on him, messing with his tools. "The Princess didn't want him to take the oath. But he insisted he be here."

Dream's head hurt to much. His emotions were shot. He was so confused. "What- what the hell is- goi- going on?" He started to slur his words.

"What do you recall of your last waking moments?" The healer moved him along.

Dream closed his eyes. His head- he couldn't feel his fingertips anymore. Think. Think. What happened? What happened? Why was this time so different than the other times? "I- I had a fight with my father." Was he- was this because of the fight? He didn't remember anything specific. Only the rage. The yelling. And the feeling of the intruder. "Then t-the windows shat-ttered. Then Sapnap protected me. And- and I- I passsssed out."

"Hmmm... well it seems your memory wasn't effect too badly." The healer filled a second syringe filled with red liquid this time. He hoped he wasn't going to stick it in his neck again. That fucking hurt. "Forgive us, your Highness, but everything we are doing is sanctioned by the Queen. But this is a necessary precaution. We didn't know what state you'd be in once you woke up."

Highness. Not Majesty. He was always called Majesty. Why Highness?

"What? What is that-?"

"Excuse my bluntness, your Highness. Sapnap was here to maybe be of use to us if you weren't yourself. He wanted to be here for you. And I know that he feels a great connection to you. We are all happy you seem to be yourself."

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Dream squinted his eyes, turning his head to watch Sapnap's pained face of seeing his friend in so much agony. And he couldn't do anything. He couldn't do anything. "S-sapnap?"

"Like I said, he is under an oath of silence right now."

Dream had forgotten. Was his head really that bad? "W-why?" Why was this happening?

"Every soldier who knew of what was happening had to take an oath. Servants as well. In fact, I'm the only person other than the Queen and the Princess who isn't under oath right now who knows what's happening. The Princess wanted to get your guard out of it, but he insisted that if his men were taking it, he would take it too. He's a honorable soul."

Why was he being so cryptic? Why was he being so weird? Why would he? Why?

All around.

"Your Highness, please calm down. Take some deep breaths." The man lit a incense stick. "Your inhibitor mask is broken right now. It's being repaired, but you are on heavy sedatives right now to keep you under control."

Dream blinked slowly. If only he could just fall back asleep. But he needed answers. "Is the... is the cuffs? Are they magic nulling?"

"That is correct. Ever observant, your Highness."

Why could he still hear the humming. "Sapnap?"

What- why is this happening?

Sapnap...

"You are only working yourself up more. At this rate, I'll have to put you under." The healer sighed, pulling out a final vial of black goop and sucking it up into a new, clean needle. "You must have so many questions. And I have some hard answers. Do you want me to break the news to you now, or give it to you some other time? Preferably when you're more stable? But it also might be good to tell you then dip you under. Fast. Like ripping off a band aid. What ever you wish, your Highness."

He needed to know.

What was happening.

What was going on.

Who are you?

"Tell me."

"As soon as I tell you, I'm sticking this needle into your neck." The man said, covering all his bases. "This news isn't going to be easy. I hope you understand."

Dream couldn't stay awake much longer.

Hello?

"Tell me."

The doctor flexed his jaw as he thought about what he was going to say. He was close with Dream, having taken care of him for a while now as his doctor since he was a child, but he still was very professional about things. Why couldn't Dream remember his name? "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, your Highness."

Dream didn't like his tone of voice.

"We think it was an assassination attempt."

What-?

Who are you?

"We believe that somebody at the party infiltrated the event, and messed with you. Messed with your emotions and thoughts, trying to gain control of your body in an attempt to kill you from an overload."

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Dream looked to Sapnap. No. What was going on? This couldn't be real. The oath of silence. The restraints. They thought he wasn't Dream.

help?

"But it wasn't you that died. They failed their main target."

Wwwwwwwwww

Whhhhhh

Wh?

Who?

Are?

You?

Dream could barely think.

"They couldn't take control of your body, so they forced your emotions, played on already existing faults. The assassination attempt was on you. They failed. They failed because when you started to go into a meltdown, you did something that you've never done before."

Who are you?

Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?  
Who are you?

"Instead of holding onto your power and overloading, you forced your frustration out on somebody else."

Why?

No.

No.

It couldn't be.

If it was what he thought-

The healer prepared the black syringe, holding his hand once again against Dream's face holding him still. Ready to deliver the bad news then immediately put him under with a stab to the neck.

"My condolences. King Dream."

No.

No.

No. No. No. No.

No it couldn't.

No.

It couldn't.

That would mean-

That he murdered his-

>{}<

Time.

Time passes.

It does. It does.

What is time?

Had he forgotten?

Was he frozen?

Frozen in time?

Or was this moment timeless?

time. time. it's time. 

>{}<

He didn't have to time process it. He didn't have time. His eyes were wide with shock, staring straight forward, looking at nothing as the thudding in his head grew louder.

No.

NO.

NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

Don't tell them.

Tears were just starting to form in the corners of his eyes as the sharp needle went into his neck one last time.

"Sweet dreams, your Highness."

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

"When you wake up, it will be a new dynasty. A new era. With a new King."

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

help?

:)


	27. Promise

Quackity thought that maybe things were going back to the way they used to be.

Things were so amazing back then. At the beginning. He had been wildly intoxicated with the thought of something new and exciting, of being on top of the world in a new position of power that he had always so passionatly strived for, but also becoming newly married to a man that felt the same way as him. And in the beginning, he had loved it. Sure, Schlatt had always been the more dominant one out of the two in the relationship, and sure, Quackity couldn't ignore that Schlatt had some manipulative tendencies, Quackity wasn't an idiot, and sure, he did have a bit of an alcohol problem, but in the beginning it had been easy to gloss over it.

In the beginning, Quackity had felt like he was an equal. That he had a say in things. That he could speak freely in front of Schlatt without getting possibly murdered.

Then the festival happened.

The festival had been when everything had taken a turn.

He didn't want to hurt Tubbo. He was just a kid.

Schlatt had ignored his pleas.

Schlatt didn't include him in the decision.

And things had only gotten worse after that. Quackity had felt it slowly building up. Names and playful teasing had started to take on a sharper meaning. Now instead of being called a dumbass because of something funny he had said, he was viciously called stupid and a plethora of other things, driving his esteem into the ground. And Schlatt had gotten more handsy. Sometimes when Quackity told him no it took more convincing than it should. It was like he wasn't his own person anymore.

He was just his bitch.

Quackity had been trying to convince himself that it was just the stress. That if Quackity could work hard enough to fix these problems, things could go back to the way they were before. Because Quackity was somebody who tried to fix problems, even at the expense of himself.

First it was for his mother. He worked so hard for her, working several different jobs and playing music for tips on the side so that he could help her keep a roof on their heads. To be able to give her presents when holidays came, to give back to her just like she had sacrificed for him when he was little, her skipping out on her needs to make sure Quackity could have enough books and supplies to go to school during the time that most other kids were out working on the farms or some other hard labor job making the bare minimum of wages. 

Then, it was his community. Everybody saw the opportunity for him to go someplace, do something with his life other than just being wasted talent working hard labor jobs in the slums. Everybody wanted him to succeed, they were all rooting for him. And he worked so hard to make sure they wouldn't be disappointed.

Then, he worked for the academy. He studied law, and he studied hard. He took more classes than anybody he knew, studied late into the night, the only breaks he took were to go play piano at the bars to earn a few extra dollars to buy breakfast or dinner every once in a while because the academy only provided lunch.

Then, he worked for justice. He was still a student, but as he dug deeper and deeper into past law cases and the fine print of all the decrees the Emperor had passed, Quackity started to see the history of hypocrisy and corruption. Then he started digging. He got so lost in his studies, failing his required math course and living solely off of the provided lunch for weeks because he didn't have time to earn any money. He was consumed. And the more he looked, the worse it fucking got. Law after law after law of discrimination, classism, and preference to pure magical blood was sitting right in the archives for anybody to find. The laws were against people like Quackity. Laws that made their voices practically unheard in any decision. The Emperor of Mexico was always presented almost god like. Like he was holy, perfect, above every one else. And yet, looking at the decisions he made he knew that his people were being silenced. The people who were being silenced, they had a derogatory term for un-pure blood mixes like him. Hybrids. Through Quackity's hands passed case after case after case that clearly showed systemized discrimination and poverty. Even though the Emperor claimed to be perfect and just. But really it was all fucking propaganda. Ways the rich were cheating to stay rich. Ways this fucked up world was being run by the supposed "righteous" man and his court of clowns.

Quackity would be murdered with no hesitation if anybody found out his stance.

Nobody would care if the poor annoying charity case hybrid who was at the academy on a grant suddenly disappeared.

But Quackity couldn't stay silent.

The fire had been lit inside him.

He needed to change something.

He needed to do something.

He was at the academy, working and slaving away, sitting in his empty room of practically no possessions when he opened one of the most recent file reports that he stole from one of his teachers when they weren't looking.

He was already fucking probably going to be executed for treason for just his stance.

And if the teacher didn't see him and his big clunky wings slip the folder into his jacket, they didn't deserve what was inside the supposedly "confidential" packet anyways.

That folder....

It changed his life more then he could ever imagine.

He ripped the orange paper with his fingers, the sound crinkling as he slipped his fingers inside, his fingertips brushing the stiff paper of official documents.

He had scored big.

He could already tell.

He slid the papers out gingerly, taking in their formal appearance and the boxy typewriter written lettering the thick packet was written with.

Lighting a candle, quill in hand to take notes, he started to read.

And he read.

And he read.

He read until morning, taking notes the entire time.

In shock.

In wonder.

In hope.

Because he read of a place.

A new place.

That had won independence.

Against the Dreamlands.

Quackity couldn't wrap his mind around it. The Dreamlands... through history they have always been the leading nation in strength of military and land mass. Granted, the last hundred or so years had been terrible for them but they were making a comeback with the new King, Dream.

This nation...

Was starting from scratch.

They were building it up from scratch.

They were building a nation.

Building.

A.

Nation.

Quackity looked at that. That folder. It must've been fate. He could've chosen any other packet from the teachers desk. And yet he had grabbed that one. He looked at it. And he was hungry.

Starving.

For change.

For a chance to make a difference.

For a chance to build something for people like him.

He looked at that document, looked at the location. Looked at the possibility.

He couldn't...

He couldn't pass this up.

This was destiny.

The next day he wrote home to his mother. He turned in his resignation letter to the academy. He packed what little money he had in savings, and he set out to the new nation with no plan whatsoever, other then just head to the promised lands.

L'Manburg.

His new nation.

Quackity... he had always put his morals before his wellbeing.

He then put L'Manburg's wellbeing before his own.

Then... he put Schlatt before himself.

Schlatt was the leader of the country. Schlatt was the embodiment of the nation. And Quackity only wanted what was best for his nation. Because it was going to be his. And he was going to make it perfect.

Quackity worked so hard. Writing laws. Putting his background to good use. And then, when he was given the offer, starry eyed and shocked, he had said yes. He had said yes to Schlatt.

And everything had been perfect.

Quackity, all his work, all his hard labor, had paid off.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

With... a few hiccups.

But then, all of the rebellion happened.

The festival.

The fireworks.

The drunkenness.

The manipulation.

The darkness.

The questioning.

The uncertainty.

And then... that night happened.

And Quackity started fearing for his life.

All hell broke loose.

He had spent the entire past 48 hrs in petrified fear.

The last two days hiding his true emotions.

The emotions that being in the same room as Schlatt was enough to send him flashbacks of that night.

But... life had continued. Like that had never happened. Schlatt barely acknowledged that it happened. And if it wasn't for his aching body, Quackity might've believed that he just made it all up. Because Schlatt had been acting better. It had been two days since that night, and during those two days Quackity had noticed a change in Jschlatt's behavior for the better. He was taking up more of the workload, been a bit more caring, and had been drinking less. It was better than even before. It was like he was in a fever dream. It couldn't be real.

And it didn't feel real.

It felt like a trap.

Quackity was waiting every second for Schlatt to snap and go insane again.

But...

But...

But he hadn't.

Quackity didn't even think that Schlatt remembered that night.

He was drunk out of his mind.

It was like he had his mental breakdown, his moment of insanity, and was now bouncing back.

Quackity...

Quackity, no matter how much he feared him, knew who Schlatt was capable of being. Knew the gentle, humorous and intelligent person Schlatt could be.

The Schlatt that Quackity had fallen in love with.

Quackity had been thinking.

Nonstop.

He was hopeful.

Maybe...

Maybe Schlatt really was trying.

Maybe Quackity was finally doing something right.

Maybe Schlatt really did love him back.

Or maybe it was just a trap.

But if it wasn't, it was a miracle.

So when Quackity was asked to come help with a project Schlatt had started, he didn't get the deep throbbing anxiety in the bottom of his stomach that usually made him want to vomit. Instead, Schlatt by his side, all he felt was a bit of fear mixed in with a tentative amount of hope. They walked together on the wooden road, side by side as body guards surrounded the area, giving them some space but also keeping the area secure.

Quackity smiled. A shy but genuine smile. He forgot the last time he had been included in one of Schlatt's plans like this. Normally he had to do most everything by himself, Quackity choosing his own projects and Schlatt adding onto his list whenever he felt like it. But this time Schlatt had asked him for help. It felt like they were taking it up together.

"Where are we going?" Quackity asked, refusing the urge to itch his neck. His skin had been getting worse lately, the base of his neck turning an almost sickly yellow. He had covered it with makeup the best he could, but he needed to keep his hands off of it. And that wasn't the only place he had makeup. His nose throbbed, definitely bruised, his lip stung from his cut and his jaw still ached. But despite this, nobody could see. He had gotten pretty good practice of hiding things on his body from his years of covering up his skin condition. Even after a full day, none of it had come off yet.

"Come on." Schlatt responded, a bit tipsy. Quackity had seen him drink maybe a glass or two before they left, but he wasn't drunk drunk so Quackity wasn't too worried of repeat of that night. He just needed to continue to stay innocent. Really, if you thought about it, the only reason why Schlatt had done that was because he thought he was a traitor. Yeah. That had to be it. Yeah, Quackity tried convincing himself, that had to be it. "We're going to the white house."

Quackity was unsure how he felt about where Schlatt was taking him. "What do you mean the white house?"

Jschlatt turned around, walking backwards to look Quackity dead in the eyes, arms outreached dramatically. He smirked watching Quackity flinch at his movement, his eyes sinister. "To be demolished! It's about time!"

What-?

Jschlatt turned around, continuing to walk, leaving Quackity frozen on the spot. "Let's go! Let's go slowpoke!"

He had hoped...

He thought...

Things were supposed to be better?

Quackity didn't think he heard the words right. He couldn't have. Schlatt couldn't just- that was his project. That had been Quackity's project. "No, no no no no no no no- what are you talking about?" Quackity jogged to keep up with him, his ribs burning with every step. He had been moving carefully and slowly before this, the place where Schlatt had kicked him still sore. But he ignored it as he tried to meet his strides.

"The white house is coming down!" Jschlatt said with such jurisdiction and glee, like it was some innocent thing to do on a nice evening with your husband.

"Wait what are you doing? Wait wait wait-" Quackity's words stopped in his mouth. He could see it. In the distance. He could see the demolition sight. He hadn't been out this way today, he had spent the entire day at Eret's castle. But there it was, the mid-progress project that was the demolition of his white house. There were people tearing at the walls, noises of construction hammering in the distance.

Schlatt turned off the road, starting up the path to the construction sight. "Yeah yeah- We're going to do it. Take it down." They passed people carrying wheelbarrows of rubble, remains of the white house being carted away. It was almost midnight- and Schlatt still had them working. When did he start this? How was he making these people work this long? How long had he been planning this?

"No- Nononnono- '' Quackity ran up the hill, watching another worker continue to demolish the walls. Dust stuck to his uniform, the cold air stinging his lungs. "No no no no, we are not taking the white house down."

Things were supposed to be better.

"Awwww come on. Your being a little bitch. Don't be a little bitch." Schlatt called up to him, a smile still on his face.

A smile that sent chills down his spine.

Quackity was aware of his shaking hands. He still felt the very recent injuries he had sustained that night.

But Schlatt had done that because he thought he was a traitor.

Quackity wasn't the traitor.

They were in public.

Schlatt had been treating him nicer.

Like he had in the beginning.

He was still healing.

He was still hurting.

But this problem wasn't domestic.

This was about his nation.

The fire still burned in his heart.

Quackity gathered all the passion he had. "We're not taking the fucking white house down."

"You're-" Schlatt started to speak.

"WERE NOT TAKING IT DOWN!" Quackity yelled at Schlatt, causing all the workers and body guards to stop and stare at his outburst that Quackity didn't even know that he had in him. Flashes of coughing up blood played in his mind, but this wasn't about him. This wasn't about him anymore. This was about his nation now. And he would die for his nation.

His nation was the reason he had put up with everything.

Everything.

"I'm not doing it." Quackity said quieter, looking at Schlatt, not able to read his face in the moonlight, suddenly realizing what he had did. He prayed to God he didn't mess up. That he was going to trigger another manic episode. That Schlatt was going to put that gun again against his head.

But no matter how much Schlatt's eyes burned into him, no matter how much Quackits heart raced, he held his ground. "I'm not taking it down. Come on, let's go somewhere else. We can talk it out someplace else."

Jschlatt's eyes glowed as he looked straight through Quackity, his voice piercing the quiet of the ceased construction noises.

Quackity stopped breathing.

Please. Please. Please. Please just listen to him.

"Continue. Don't stop." Schlatt addressed the workers.

The hustle and bustle picked up around them, but it was definitely slower as all of them tried to get a good look at what was happening. Quackity's head was pounding. No. No. "Stop fucking running this." Quackity clenched his hands together. "Stop this." Stop going back to the way you were. Stop manipulating me. Stop ruining our progress. Stop hurting us. Stop hurting me. "Get your shit together. Let's go." Quackity said as he walked up the Schlatt, before doing something that sent warning signals blaring in his head. He touched Schlatt's arm, timidly pulling him away.

Quackity was never the one to touch Schlatt. Schlatt was always the one to touch Quackity.

Please.

Schlatt laughed, a tense, maniacal laugh of a man about to lose his cool. He pulled away causing Quakity to flinch, pure panic and reflex causing Quackity to duck away. "No. I'm not stopping. I have to get this on now, all by myself, because your being a fucking bitch, and not helping like I asked."

Quackity's breath caught. He didn't like being this close when they were fighting. Everything in his body was screaming that he needed to get away. He needed to just agree, just to accept this. 

But it wasn't just him that this was for.

It was everything he stood for.

His morals.

His ideals.

His country.

He needed to stand his ground.

"Don't take it down. I'm not going to help you take it down." Quackity found resolve, drawing the line despite his shaking hands. Schlatt had been nicer. He had been getting better. Please. Please.

Quackity had always put his morals before his wellbeing.

Schlatt tensed, annoyed as if he was starting to realize that Quackity wasn't just going to do what he was saying. He started to walk away. "If you're not going to do my wishes as the vice-president-" He reached a group of workers, Quackity frustratingly following close. The workers all nodded respectfully to the President.

"Where's the demolition button?" He asked someone who Quackity could only assume as the leader of the construction project.

"Stop. Stop." Quackity ran up to them, trying to stand in the way of Schlatt and the workers, arms and wings spread out so that Schlatt couldn't even see them. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Schlatt didn't answer, instead reaching out to push Quackity aside. Quackity moved quickly, ducking his head and stepping out of the way.

Please.

He didn't want Schlatt to touch him.

Schlatt received a box looking thing, with wires and knobs coming off of the front and back of it. Quackity heard an alarm ringing, and one of the distant workers yelling over a megaphone.

"DETONITION IN TEN MINUTES! PLEASE VACATE THE BLAST RADIUS! REPORT TO YOUR PROJECT MANAGER FOR ATTENDANCE!"

"Stop stop stop stop." Quackity tried pulling on Schlatt's arm again. Things were getting better between them. Why did- why did he have to do this to them?! Why now?! "Are you an idiot?"

And to think he had been so stupid. That things could possibly be getting better.

"GOD-'' Jschlatt spoke, holding the button in his right hand, waving it around as he talked, completely ignoring Quackity, "Ten minutes?! I can't get good work these days. If only my vice president would actually help me. Wait- who did I GET TO RUN THIS COUNTRY WITH ME AGAIN?! WHO DID I GET TO HELP ME WITH THINGS LIKE THIS?!"

"What the hell?! I literally do so much! This is just- this is just the white house!" Quackity yelled, his throat raw with emotion. "This is MY project!"

Please.

Things were getting better.

"Oh stop crying about it!" Schlatt scowled, his face slowly changing from malicious amusement to actual annoyance. "I forget- I forget how much younger you are-"

"I'm not crying about it-" Quackity couldn't comprehend the overflow of emotions he was feeling, "What the hell! What the HELL! As your husband, no- as your vice president, we are supposed to make these decisions together. Are we not making these decisions together?!"

Quackity had always put his morals over his wellbeing.

They were supposed to be a team.

He wasn't just his bitch.

The workers backed up a bit, away from the radius of Quackity's wildly swinging wings as he expressively waved his hands.

Quackity made himself look into Schlatt's terrifying eyes. "You know what Schlatt? You are literally in power because of ME."

Quackity had worked so hard to get where he was at. He had made so many sacrifices.

Schlatt snarled at him, causing Quackity to stop his rage for a split second. "Oh shut up, I'm the President. Remember, you wouldn't have this power if it weren't for me?"

"We put our votes together?!" Quackity's hands shook. "WE were supposed to be a team?!" He took another breath, using Schlatt's silence to get another word in. "How are you going to advocate for democracy while you're doing this shit?"

Schlatt didn't respond to Quackity, instead looking to the worker. "How many more minutes?"

Everything Quackity had done...

His nation...

"Eight minutes Mister President."

"You know what...." Quackity paced back and forth. "Nonononon.... I can't do this anymore."

He had been putting up with so much.

"I can't do this anymore."

He had reached his snapping point.

"I can't do this anymore."

Schlatt could hurt him. All he wanted. Part of Quackity had become trapped by this thought. Part of him knew that whatever Schlatt did to him, he would have no choice but to take it. But, as soon as Schlatt started messing with his nation-

Morals before your wellbeing.

Morals.

Your passion.

Your mission.

Your everything.

Before.

Yourself.

"You know what, Schlatt?" Quackity let the months of feelings boil over. All the resentment. All the hurt. He ripped his wedding ring off his finger, throwing it to the ground. Schlatt turned away from the worker, giving his full attention to Quackity now. "Fuck you! I was vice president, but you can find a different vice president. I'm not going to do this shit anymore. Since day one, you haven't respected my decisions."

Quackity had tears in his eyes.

He was exhausted.

"I'm done. I'm done."

Schlatt stood there, staring at the discarded ring on the ground.

"Get the hell out of here." Schlatt's voice was almost too soft to hear.

"What?" Quackity's own voice dropped.

"Get the hell out of here."

Quackity drew a shuddery breath. So this was it. So he was just going to let him go. "You are- you are the worst dictator. I- I ran against Wilbur to prevent a dictatorship. You know what you did? You know what we did?"

It didn't feel real.

It felt like a fever dream.

Jschlatt scowled, looking away from Quackity and muttering under his breath. "I'm not done- I'm not done." Quackity couldn't hear exactly what he was saying until he yelled out. "Jesus CHRIST- I can't get any help around here from people!"

"S- screw you! Screw you!" Quackity watched as more people filed out of the construction zone, leaving only them and the encroaching bodyguards close enough in the blast radius. Quackity wasn't moving. "No. I planned this. This was my project. I made this. I made this."

"If it was your project-" The mood suddenly turned for the worse. Jshlatt set the detonation button down, holding out his hand as a signal. A body guard walked up, handing a crossbow into his hands, before Schlatt threw it on the ground at Quackity's feet.

"Then defend it."

Quackity's entire body ran cold, looking at the weapon that had landed in the dirt in front of him. "Schlatt- Sch-"

"You promised."

Quackity couldn't move.

"You promised. You promised that if you betrayed me- you said you'd take the shot. Like a fucking man. You would aim it at my fucking head and take the shot."

Quackity couldn't move.

"You promised."

Schlatt laughed, his cackling sending tremors through Quackity.

He knew what Schlatt wanted.

The promise.

He picked up the crossbow.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You know."

Everything.

Quackity gripped the handle, his knuckles white. Wind blew in, rustling the leaves and carrying the murmurs of the workers below, watching what was happening, body guards preventing them from coming closer.

"You think I don't remember that night?"

Cold, solid fear encompassed every single motion that he made. Quackity pulled back the arrow, the crossbow clicking in recognition of being loaded.

Morals before wellbeing.

Everything for his nation.

The promise.

"Yeah. Rack that bow. Rack that bow. We all know you're too much a wimp to do it."

"Nononononono-" Quackity hissed. "Fuck you. No. no. no."

Schlatt raised his arms out, the movement making Quackity take a step back. "Shoot me! Do it!"

"No-"

"COME ON! SHOOT ME! SHOOT ME WITH THE BOW!"

Quackity couldn't pull the trigger, his whole body tense as he gripped the weapon. "You literally have the citizen morale so low, under the ground, this place might've been better with a different kind of leadership. You're being a tyrant." He spoke softly, all the anger previously being replaced by gripping fear.

Jschlatt rolled his eyes annoyed at the standoff that was happening. When he had decided that Quackity wasn't going to shoot him and was only wasting his time, he started to walk forward, reaching out to grab the crossbow from Quackity's hands. "I guess it's time for you to go. Go home. Wait for me. I'll come back and deal with you once I'm finished. You're too much of a wimp to shoot me with the bow. You'll kill me with this shot, but oh, you can't do it. You can't do it."

"Screw you. Screw you. I'm outta here." Quackity muttered as a defense, walking backwards away from him.

He wished it was back the way it was.

In the beginning.

The soft words.

The promises.

The future ahead of them.

Schlatt grabbed and yanked the crossbow from him, dragging Quackity along with it as he wouldn't let go. "Get outta here you piece of shit-"

Everything.

He was stopped mid sentence.

Was.

Quackity had pulled the trigger.

For.

His heart racing, Quackity let go of the bow, his body falling backwards with the momentum of fighting Schlatt's tugs. Dust picked up as he landed, his body thudding against the dirty construction site.

His.

Jschlatt held his mouth slightly open, eyes staring down at the arrow shaft.

Nation.

Quackity- he-

Quackity was in shock. He couldn't move. He couldn't feel his body. This couldn't be real.

No. No. Nononononononono-

He didn't.

He did.

How could he.

How-

No.

No.

No.

Please.

No.

Why-

He had chosen to do that.

He had chosen.

He had chosen to pull the trigger.

No.

No.

God. Please no. Please.

The promise the promise the promise the promise the promise the promise the promise the promise the promise-

Schlatt's fingers found their way around the hilt of the arrow, feeling the wooden shaft that was plunged into his stomach.

How could he have done that?

Why did he do that?

He was scared. He was scared. That's why-

Please no.

God no.

Please.

Please.

"I didn't think you had the guts to do it."

What-?

The promise the promise the promise the promise the promise the promise the promise the promise the promise-

Quaking, Quackity watched as Schlatt pulled the arrow out of his gut, his hands cover in blood. as. He grunted and held the arrow up in one hand and held his slowly bleeding side with his other.

"What-" Quackity trembled. "What-"

Jschlatt held the arrow up in the moonlight, admiring the blood trickling down his fingers.

"What a fucking bad shot. You missed. Probably didn't even hit anything important." His voice was taught, like he was hissing through his teeth.

"What?" Fear choked Quackity's words. He couldn't see straight. His vision was blurring. A dizziness in his head kept him from seeing correctly.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-

Body guards rushed up the hill, intervening in on the situation. It was a blur of black suits as Quackity felt his body being yanked away from Schlatt, his hands being forced behind his back and his wings being held down by several guards.

What. The. Fuck.

How did he-

How could he-

Schlatt-

Pain flared through his body as he was forced on his knees, into a position that only aggravated his past injuries.

Quackity couldn't swallow.

Schlatt looked down on him, his face unreadable.

"You kept your fucking promise."

Quackity was crying silently. He wasn't even aware, the panic flooding his brain keeping all rational thoughts from recognizing little details. He struggled slightly against the tight grips of the body guards holding him down, forcing him to kneel.

Schlatt kneeled down next to him, grunting as he moved to one knee, looking straight into Quackity's wide open eyes of pure shock. "So, instead of killing you, I guess I'll let you have a head start before I set my men on you."

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-

Quackity's voice barely was audible, his mouth slightly agape. "What-"

His stomach cramped, his body threatening to throw up.

What the fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk-

"But first, let's make it a bit more fair."

Schlatt stood up, drawing a knife from the inner pocket of his suit.

The color drained from Quackity's face.

Quackity stopped breathing. He closed his eyes, tears coming down his chin as he expected pain.

"You know? Tonight, I had it all planned." Schlatt talked as if he was trying to hold it together, trying to stop the pain from showing in his voice. 

Quackity waited for the pain. For Schlatt to kill him. To slice his neck open.

He was going to die.

He was going to die.

He was going to fucking die. 

"Tonight was the night that I decided to finally push you to see if you would betray me. I had been doing so well, trying so hard to be good for you after you had promised me that promise. I tried to get rid of my paranoia. For you. And by God was it hard. I tried so hard for you. But you know, this little voice in the back of my head said that you were still lying to me. I almost believed you a hundred percent when you had promised you'd betray me by confronting me like a man. Almost. But I didn't fully believe it. I know how much of a coward you are. You know what they call you? They call you my bitch. They all do. You never do anything against me. You're weak. So maybe I thought that you wouldn't have the guts to kill me upfront, maybe you would break your promise and sneak around me like a fucking rat. So, I just needed to test you one last time. I needed to push you."

Surprised, he felt no pain. Only a slight tug on his wings.

"To see if you really were with me."

Schlatt's voice was full of hurt.

"I'm glad I did."

He opened his eyes and stared in shock at Schlatt who had a handful of feathers in one of his hands.

He wasn't dead.

Blood wasn't dripping from his throat.

He wasn't bleeding.

"I heard it's hard for fucking birds like you to fly when your wings are imbalanced. Do you know what this is called? You probably don't, you're a fucking dumbass. This- this is called clipping," He drew out the word, saying it slowly and mocking him, "somebody's wings. They do it to birds to make them more dependent. To housepets. To keep them from flying away." He bitterly threw his feathers to the ground. "About time you stopped flying around like a goddamn entitled bitch. You can run."

Quackity's entire body was shot with freezing shock.

"Run away."

He whispered into Quackity's ear.

"Feel the fear in every step."

Please. Please. God, please. 

"Feel your demise closing around you when you run out of places to turn. Feel the fear of your lungs burning with every breath. Feel the fear that you deserve."

It was like Quackity was in a haze. It couldn't be real.

"Run, Alex. Run."

Schlatt stepped away and stood up.

"Let him go." The men let go of Quackity's arms, him falling forward. "You have five minutes before they track you down and kill you as a traitor to this nation."

Schlatt wasn't going to kill him. 

He was going to torture him. 

Let him live his last few moments in pure fear, trying to run away. 

He knew he stood no chance against the personal body guards. 

He was going to die.

And Schlatt didn't even want to do it himself.

Please.

God please.

He was going to die. 

The words lit a fire under Quackity's feet. His panic fueled him. His blood pumped with adrenaline, he scrambled up, knees weak, body barely responding to his thoughts. HIs thoughts weren't rational. His thinking wasn't rationally. It was like he was hearing everything like it was happening in the room next door and not happening to him. He couldn't comprehend. But Schlatt had made it very clear. Clear enough to break through his shock.

He ran.

Ran for his life.

He ran away so fast that he didn't see Schlatt bend over and pick up his discarded wedding ring and place it in his pocket, turning his back away. Too fast to see Schlatt grit his teeth, feeling an indescribable feeling of loneliness and regret stemming from the place where Quackity had shot him. To see the man run up to him with a first aid kit, offering support, only for Schlatt to turn him away, saying he was fine. 

Too fast to see Schlatt closing his eyes, turning his face away from everybody so they couldn't see his silent tears.

Run.

Schlatt thought bitterly, the rotten taste of betrayment in his mouth.

Run.

>{}<

Tree branches and leaves whipped by him, scratching his face and body as he sprinted through the woods, plunging deep into the wild dark. Quackity's lungs screamed, his breaths coming in quick hyperventilating breaths as he willed his shaking muscles to take him farther. He was panicking. He was in full survival mode and felt nothing but pain. His feet slipped on the branches and vegetation, causing him to stumble and scrape his hands as he tried to catch himself before he continued running. With each footfall jarring pain shot into us ankles to knees. Something had twisted when he fell. But he couldn't stop. He ran on, a slight limp from whatever he had just broken. His wings smacked against the tree trunks, uselessly slowing him down. His heart beats frantically. This was all or nothing. If he failed, he would die.

I'm not going to make it.

I'm going to die.

I'm going to fucking die.

I'm going to die in this fucking forest all by myself-

Please. God please. 

Behind him Quackity could hear the mob of Schlatt's special service ops following him, shouting and yelling of men trying to trace him only spurring Quackity further.

Sweat dripped from his forehead. He was exhausted. He needed to keep running. He knew he needed to keep moving. Hot burning in his lungs tore him from the inside out as he ran as hard as he could, the only thing he was able to see were the dark shadows of passing wildlife and the glowing light of lanterns searching for him from behind.

Quackity couldn't get caught. He couldn't. He didn't want to die. He was going to die.

Shots fired off in the distance; Quackity ducked and rolled on the ground, arrows piercing the woods above him. Sticks scraped his skin, biting into his skin and drawing blood. Quackity pushed himself into the ground, hoping to hide in the dark. He held his breath, his body shaking as he tried to disappear.

The footsteps drew closer, the lights glowing off of the face of the trees.

Quackity could hear them talking.

"This way! This way!" One of them yelled.

No- nononono-

Don't find me.

Don't find me.

Please.

Quackity clenched his shoulders, prepared to start sprinting again.

He wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up.

Keep running. 

Keep going.

"What- Who are you?!" He stopped getting up, instead straining his ears to listen to what was being said.

"What?!" They yelled, before more shots of crossbows fired off. Quackity tried to focus, his vision fading a bit around the corners. He heard grunts and clashes of swords, the sounds of fighting. Quackity tried to make himself small, he tried to disappear.

What were they fighting?

Mobs?

What was going on?

The noises stopped.

He couldn't hear anything.

Where they dead?

"Hello?" A somewhat familiar voice called out.

Quackity shook, slowly looking up from behind the tree. Through the light of the lanterns now scattered across the ground, Quackity saw somebody standing amiss a pile of fallen men, maybe about five or six that had just been taken down.

Quackity's voice broke, hoarse and out of breath. "Tommy?"

Tommy stood, heaving breaths of exhaustion from just single handedly stopping several trained special forces. His sword hung limply in his hand at his side, drops of blood running down one of the edges.

"Big Q? Is that you?"

Gracias. Gracias. Gracias dios y todas las cosas santas de arriba. Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre, venga tu reyno, hagase tu voluntad, asì en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan cotidiano,Y perdónanos nuestras deudas, asì como nosotros perdonamos á nuestros deudores. Y no nos metas en tentación, mas líbranos de mal.

Quackity managed to stand, all the adrenaline leaving his body and only leaving fatigue. He leaned up against the tree, Tommy walking to him.

"Ayee..." Tommy walked closer, his eyes skimming Quackity's injuries. "What? Why? Did you just run off? Why were they chasing you?"

Quackity managed to open his throat, letting out an hysterical laugh. "I- I-, uh just a late night jog. Ya know?"

He sounded absolutely hysteric.

This had to be a fever dream. 

Tommy sheathed his sword, letting both hands free. "Don't you have people? Don't you have people to protect you? Being vice president and all. Schlatt's bitch?"

Quackity could barely stay conscious.

Thank you. Thank god. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you thank you.

He owed Tommy his life. 

"Listen. Listen. You and me. We have to talk." He heaved.

He was exhausted.

His brain was so foggy.

He couldn't think straight.

He was still comprehending how close to death he had just been.

He was in shock. 

Tommy crossed his arms. "Well, it's been a little while mister vice president."

Quackity wiped his face, pushing away tears. "Nononono, not vice president anymore".

"Ah- dude..." Tommy started to say, before he was cut off.

"Listen. He uhm- Schlatt's and asshole. That's all I'm going to say." Quackity laughed shakily.

Tommy was uncharacteristically full of concern. "What's happened?"

"He took down the white house." Quackity hugged his arms, not looking Tommy in the eyes. "He's- He's gone all... power crazy... and.... And... I don't know. I don't know. It's just.... Nothing is working out. We have.... Internal issues." He choked out the last bit.

Tommy awkwardly tried to pat Quackity's shoulder, stopping himself when he saw him flinch. "Well uhm... I was in Pogtopia and I heard some screaming and... uh... were you crying?"

Quackity's shoulders tightened. "I wasn't- I wasn't crying."

"So, you..." Tommy said gently, a side of Tommy Quackity had never seen before. "So you were just going for a late not jog, not being chased by the men I just took out, after having 'internal conflicts' with the power crazy bastard, after I heard screams and crying." Tommy resisted the urge to reach out and touch Quackity. Tommy loved to talk, and he loved filling up space with chatter, but sometimes he didn't want to mess up his words. That's when he turned to shoulder touches, pats on the back, and other small things like high fives. But he had seen how Quackity was terrified when he had lifted his hand to touch his arm. "So.... What do you want? Do you want help? I- I've already gotten my hands dirty. I can help you if you need it."

Morals before wellbeing.

Everything.

He had put up with so much.

"I'm- I'm just going to say it out." Quackity clenched his hands into fists. "I'm just going to say it. I- I want to overthrow Schlatt. I'm vice president. If the president dies, the vice president takes power. I- I want to overthrow him. He's being- he's not following the rules... he's always undermining me. I don't- I don't want to do it anymore."

Bitterness filled his heart.

Schlatt had tried to kill him.

Schlatt would continue to try to kill him. 

The night wildlife buzzed around them, unaware of the decision that he just made.

"What are you saying? Do you want to work with us?"

Quackity raised his blood shot eyes, holding his chin up high, his resolve setting in.

Schlatt had said he was good at bouncing back, after all.

"Take me to Pogtopia."


	28. My L'Manburg

Warm smells of cooking bread and potatoes filled the little area Niki had for cooking. It was a lot different than cooking in her own home, but she had to think positive. The ravine did make for some pretty sights, the high cavernous walls and ceilings acted like an amphitheater for any noise she made, and it was quite lovely to hear her own humming echoes bounce off the walls and down the seemingly endless cave tunnels. She stood from the campfire, taking what she had finished and wrapping it up in a little handkerchief. She would have to make multiple, some for Tubbo, some for Tommy, and some for Wilbur. Normally Techno and her would cook together, but he hadn't been back since the whole pit fighting thing that he and Tommy had done. Niki hoped Techno wasn't mad at her. She didn't mean to yell at him like that, all she had wanted to do was end the fight.

Niki carried the food down the halls, humming the song stuck in her head as she headed to the dorm room. It was a small little room, made by Wilbur when he realized that the one cot upstairs wasn't going to cut it. He had found a little cave opening on the side of the main hall and made it homier, each boy of the small room having their own little space. They had all decided that Niki could take the cot upstairs, all by herself. And she was grateful for it. Both Tommy and Tubbo were teenage boys still, and there wasn't exactly the best bathing system down in Pogtopia.

Niki pulled away the makeshift curtain that separated the two rooms, knocking on the stone to signal her arrival.

"Niki!" Tubbo sat in his own personal cot, the first one to the right. It was midnight, and Tubbo should've been sleeping, but his sleep schedule was messed up by the weird times he was starting to sleep at. Tubbo's sleep was chosen at very erratic times and he had started to sleep a lot lately. He just spent more time in his bed. Niki guessed it made sense, his body still trying to recover from the festival. Tubbo had said that he was just getting tired faster, and he was constantly getting headaches from straining his ears to try to hear things. He definitely had permanent damage with his ears, something that once they were in a hopefully better place Niki could take him to a proper healer and get him fixed up. Niki felt a bit guilty. Niki was a healer, but she was a self taught one. She didn't even know any spells, she just had a natural talent for knowing what to do and how to make comfort food. If only she was a proper healer, maybe Tubbo wouldn't have such permanent injuries. Maybe he wouldn't have the scar. Maybe he wouldn't be having these hearing problems. But Niki had been enough to keep Tubbo from dying. So she guessed it was enough. His broken arm was still in a sling, and his scar had finally started to heal to the point where she didn't need to be worrying about running out of healing potions. The scar was impressive, a starburst pattern from the center of his chest, the explosion mapped out on his skin. It was huge, snaking up his neck and onto the left side of his chin. The opposite side that Tommy had his scar from his Dream duel.

"Tonight's midnight special~" Niki said with a bit of sarcastic flourish, "My famous bread and potatoes."

"Thank you, Niki." Tubbo reached out, grabbing the bundle from her hands. "Smells delicious."

Niki smiled, turning to leave again. She knew Tubbo had often been waking from nightmares recently, as has Wilbur and Tommy. Technoblade was the only person who could sleep through the night like a brick, ignoring anybody screaming in the middle of the night. It had gotten so bad for Wilbur that he often just took his blankets and slept on the floor by Niki. Niki was really good at calming people down. She just wanted to help any way she could. So, she had started to prepare food for midnight right before she went to bed, so anybody who woke up wouldn't have to head back to bed with an empty stomach. She may not be the best healer, but she knew how to make comfort food. Wilbur insisted it was magic. Insisted that she must sub-consciously be able to make food that heals people. But Niki didn't know. She just liked making food for other people. And Wilbur- Niki didn't know if she should take everything he was saying right now seriously. But she kept making food. She had almost forgotten tonight, having stayed up late to read her book. She had looked up and noticed the time, barely having enough time to prepare before it was already midnight.

"You going to sleep, Niki?" Tubbo asked, shoving his face with food.

"Probably. I just got to a good part of my book too." She softly said, hand resting on the curtain to close it. "And you should too. After you finish your food of course."

"I will!"

Niki blew out the lantern as she walked by, leaving the room in it's darkness. She wiped off her hands on the front of her pants, crumbles of bread falling off.

Her eyes drifted shut, and she felt her head bob as she was yanked back awake.

She needed to go to sleep before she passed out standing up.

Yawning, she walked up the stairs, dimly realizing that Wilbur and Tommy hadn't been back yet. She would probably be woken up when they arrived home, the two having to walk through her room to get to the rest of Pogtopia. 

She had just reached the top of the stairs when she saw the secret door open. Her heart fluttered. Maybe it was Wilbur.

The door swung open.

It wasn't Wilbur.

Niki at first had a hard time comprehending what she was seeing in the dark. Two shadowy figures stepped through, and Niki had a momentary split second of panic when she thought she didn't recognize the two. But then Tommy stepped into the light, his shirt splattered with blood as he helped hold up the second person.

"Heyyyyy Niki." Big Q mumbled, smiling tightly and giving a small wave.

"Quackity!" Niki ran forward, ducking under his second arm to help hold him up.

Tommy looked to Niki for help. "He's hurt. Help- help me set him down."

"I'm fine- I'm fine-" Quackity mumbled as Niki helped lead them to the cot. She made him sit down, and he promptly collapsed onto the bed, laying out in exhaustion. One of his wings draped over the side of the cot, and she carefully made sure not to step on it.

"What's going on?" She asked as she turned to grab her first aid kit.

"Aye-" Tommy walked up behind her, helping grab some bandages, "I just found him like this. He was being chased in the woods."

"I can hear you, ya know?" Big Q tried to laugh, but it just dissolved into coughing.

"What's specifically wrong with him?" Niki refined her question.

"I- I think I sprained my ankle. Running. In the woods." Big Q's breaths were short.

Niki fumbled with her supplies before frustratingly sighing. "Hey, Tommy, can you light a lantern please?"

"Yeah. Yeah-" Tommy got up and lit a match

Light flooded the room and with a noise of triumph she finally grasped her hands around one of the last healing potions they had. She turned around, ready to give it to Quackity, and froze.

Now that she could properly see, Quackity looked horrible.

Niki swallowed quickly, trying to hide her surprise. "Uhh, Big Q, so- the plan of action will be to take off your shoe and just slather this healing potion on whichever ankle is hurting. But- but I need to know if there are any other injuries I should try to save some healing potion for as well. We have a short supply right now."

Big Q tried to think, but his head was just still so foggy. "Uhhh- I don't know if you need it anywhere else."

"Are you sure?" Tommy crouched down by the cot, so he was eye level with Quackity.

"Uhh- no? My chest hurts pretty bad I guess."

"Alrighty." Niki urged him, "Let's take off your shirt then, let me have a look."

Quackity painfully sat up, using his wings sort of as support. "Woah- woah woah- lady, I'm married." Quackity joked weakly, before slowly taking his sweatshirt off.

Tommy gasped behind her. "Holy shi-"

"What happened to you?" Niki softly spoke, her voice full of disbelief.

A giant scar like Tubbo's wound its way around Quackity's left side of his body, stopping just at the tip of his neck. Niki remembers where he got it, remembers sitting in the crowd in disbelief as the explosions started to rain down, all three members of the stage down for the count. But that wasn't what Niki was worried about. She had seen Tubbo's scar many times. She had healed him herself. What was concerning, however, was the maps of black and blue bruises all across his body, mixed with what seemed to be sickly patches of yellow skin. It looked like his skin was already dying, almost every last bit covered with some mark, clear skin more rare than marked skin. The biggest problem, the one Quackity must've been talking about, was a huge purple bruise that was right on his right rib. It was painful to even look at. But that wasn't all. Up and down his arms were little bleeding cuts and scratches, Niki assumed were acquired from running in the woods at night.

Quackity self consciously crossed his arms across his body, hugging himself and covering some of the bruises. "Haha-" He tried to laugh. "Is it that bad?"

"What happened to you?" Niki repeated, bending over and gently taking one of Quackity's arms, studying the cuts on them.

"Holy shit dude."

Quackity didn't look at Tommy, ashamed of his injuries. "That bad, huh?"

"Hey Tommy-" Niki reached a hand behind her, still studying Quackity's arms, "Can you hand me the disinfectant? And the rag?"

She felt the weight of the bottle and towel in her hand. "Thanks."

"Yup."

"Hey also, can I get a bucket of water and a towel? I need to wipe off some of the dirt and blood to clean the cuts as well."

"You got it."

She put the bottle into Big Q's hands. "I'm going to start to try to fix your ankle. While I'm doing that, if you can just dip the tip of the towel in this bottle, and press it slightly on your cuts, but not too hard otherwise it will burn and hurt. It will clean your cuts so they don't get infected."

"Alrighty. Gentle touches- I got it." Quackity grabbed both things, before going to twist the cap of the bottle open.

Niki kneeled on the ground, before running her hands along Quackity's ankle. He flinched, hard.

"Is that the one that hurts?" Niki asked.

"Ahah-" Quackity awkwardly laughed. "No. It's just- no the other one is the one that hurts."

Niki frowned, her head already running. "Oh. Okay."

Why did he flinch?

Tommy walked up next to them, placing the bucket of water by Niki's feet. "Aye Niki," Tommy spoke over her shoulder. "Did you make any food tonight? Would there be any leftovers for Big Q?"

Niki nodded, happy that Tommy was thinking about ways to help. "Yeah. There should be some left. Also, Tubbo is probably still awake."

"Tubbo?" Quackity peaked up, "How's he doing?"

Tommy turned away to go down the stairs. "He's doing pretty well. That's right- you haven't seen him since the festival, have you?"

Quackity hissed as Niki pulled off his shoe, trying to contain the pain. "Yeah- yeah I haven't seen him since the festival. I'm- I'm sorry about-"

Tommy grimly disappeared down the stairs, not stopping. "It's okay. I heard you up on the stage. I knew you tried to do something. It- It looks like you've paid your price as well."

Niki frowned, looking at the already swelling ankle, before scooping out some healing potion on her fingers and gently massaging it on, trying her best to keep Quackity's pain to a minimum.

"It's really swollen. You might've- you might've broken it."

Quackity didn't respond. He was oddly quiet. Niki could tell he was trying to hold it together. She just didn't know what from. If it was from the pain, or something else.

"Fundy- he isn't part of the rebellion, but he still brings me supplies and leaves it out on the outskirts of Manburg for me to get. Next time, I'll have to ask for some more bandages and maybe some crutches." Niki rambled as she worked on fixing his ankle, Quackity bit his tongue to stop himself from making any noises at the burning from the disinfectant he was putting on his arms.

"You done with that?" Niki asked, looking up after she had put half the bottle on his ankle.

He nodded, and handed it to her. She set it down, before taking the rest of the potion and sitting on the bed beside him, grabbing the bandages and starting to wrap his arms. It took a while, the silence stretching between the two. She got to the last of the role, both his arms completely wrapped up and she switched to the potion, dipping her fingers in the solution before gently rubbing it on his bruises he had on his body. He cringed at every touch.

These bruises were very recent. Not- not like tonight recently, but more like within the last week recently. The one on his chest was the most worrying, it might actually be the product of a broken rib. She might need to get Fundy to get some pain meds. Niki was very careful with that one. Broken ribs were serious. Hopefully it was just a hairline fracture, something he could just power through. But a fractured one... it could puncture a lung. But seeing how he wasn't in tears from breathing so heavily, she didn't think he was in any danger of suddenly dying on her. Broken ribs hurt like hell. And they're wasn't much you could do with them. No brace, no cast, you want to give enough room to let the patient breathe. You shouldn't restrict the chest any way. The best way was to just lay down and stay still for a while. Or go to a healer. She wondered what would have stopped Quackity from getting medical help. He was the vice president. Don't they have good healers in Manburg? Especially for the president and his cabinet?

"Shit." Quackity gritted his teeth under his breath as she pressed a bit too hard on one of his injuries.

Niki slowed. "Sorry!" 

She pressed the wet rag on his body, carefully wiping away the dirt and blood. But she was also wiping away something else. Confused, she looked at the rag, wondering what she was looking at.

It was makeup.

Niki stopped moving, her hands hovering with the wet rag in the air when she saw it.

"What?" Quackity couldn't talk very loud. "What's wrong?"

Niki looked to the place she just wiped off. "Your- your neck-" Niki shook off her astonishment, moving her hands again, "It's-"

Quackity sighed as Niki looked concerned at him. "Oh. The yellow- it's uhmmm- it's a chronic condition. I can't control it."

"No. No. It's not that." Niki mumbled. "It- it looks like you were choked. You have bruises all up your neck and onto your jaw. Your- your nose- were you hit across the face? It's all-"

Quackity averted his eyes, looking away from her. "Ahhaha-" He weakly laughed. "Weird."

Niki couldn't stand it anymore. "Why- who did this to you?"

Quackity's face paled, and he looked away from her, suddenly very intently picking at the end of the blanket.

"Nothing. Nobody."

Niki softly pushed, patiently waiting for Quackity to tell her. She just wanted to help. "It's okay. You're in Pogtopia now. It's only me and you in this room right now. You're safe now."

Quackity's wings shook a bit, and Niki noticed some of his feathers were choppily missing, gaps in the golden wings. Niki leaned over, studying the spots. She came to the realization with horror.

"Somebody cut your wings?"

Quackity still wasn't looking at her, but was biting his lip, his hands shaking.

"Big- Big Q-" Niki stumbled on her words, before gently leaning forward to give him a hug. He tensed at first, before completely melting into her. She felt his shaking breaths as he tried not to cry.

She pulled away, gently grabbing his hands. "Who did this to you?"

Quackity was about to open his mouth, but Tubbo and Tommy both walked up to the top of the stairs.

"Big Q!" Tubbo exclaimed, a giant smile on his face. He ran through Tommy and stood at the base of the cot, looking down at Quackity as his face turned from excitement to confusion. "Oh my god you're so hurt."

Tommy walked in the and around the crowd, setting down a bundle of what Quackity could immediately smell was food. His stomach growled. He was so hungry.

Quackity laughed, wiping his face with the back of his hand to get rid of any remnants of tears. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"What happened?" Tubbo asked, Quackity noticing the scar that Tubbo had on his face.

Quackity swallowed hard. These were his friends. They were good enough mates until they had gotten exiled. Before he was under the control of him. Quackity had felt like he was drowning so long, dying in silence. He just needed to say it. He needed to.

"Schlatt happened."

The room was quiet.

Quackity immediately regretted it, once again pulling his arms close to him and covering up his body. He didn't like how they all looked at him, eyes full of shock and pity. Quackity really was pathetic. Maybe he would've been better off staying. Better off if he hadn't had fought against-

"Schlatt? Did he- Did he-" Tubbo stuttered, frozen in shock.

"I don't want to talk about it." Quackity managed to say, his throat tight, before Niki stood, ushering the two boys out.

"Hey, can I have some space? To get my work done? You can come and talk to him later."

Tommy started to protest, "Wait- Quackity-"

Tubbo pulled at his hand, stopping him mid sentence, dragging them both away. "Alrighty. I'm glad you're safe now Quackity." Tubbo called over Niki who was blocking the way. "We'll talk more later!" He waved, before heading down the stairs with Tommy.

"Thank you." Quackity mumbled, exhaustion finally taking him, all the adrenaline leaving his body. He slumped his back against the cold dirt wall, unable to sit up any longer.

"Thank you."

>{}<

Quackity had been getting better. The last couple days were tough, but he was getting better.

The first day all he did was sleep, Niki staying by his side and helping him calm down whenever he was awoken by nightmares. God, was Niki an angel. She was so kind, every single word she spoke was thought out and sweet.

The second day he had talked to Tubbo and Tommy a lot, them staying by his bed and playing card games with him. He had a good time, eventually gathering enough energy to raise his voice and laugh until he cried. It was fun, it was the most fun he had in awhile. Well, that was if you didn't count the last days he had with Schlatt until it all went to hell. But those days shouldn't count. Because every movement, everything he said, every thought felt like it was being dissected and watched. He had been so paranoid. And he still was. But he had managed to relax enough to enjoy his time with the two, catching up on what they had been doing. Tommy and Tubbo had purposefully avoided any topic that might've triggered anything for Quackity, but they still had many things to talk about. Tubbo admired Quackity's scar, saying on how they were twins and they matched. Tommy talked about his fight with Techno, and how if Techno hadn't had fought dirty he would have definitely won. But the one sore topic that both refused to talk about was Wilbur.

Quackity found that weird. He really liked Wilbur. They were both musicians, and he was fun, even if he was a bit full of himself sometimes. And he was the founder of Manburg. Quackity had a lot of respect for the guy. But whenever he asked, they changed the topic suddenly, moving on.

The third day Niki came back with crutches for Quackity. He had immediately tried to walk around, but had failed miserably. Niki had helped him throughout the day learn how to use them, how to not fall over. His ankle really was messed up. And Niki was very adamant that she thought that his ribs might be broken too. Quackity didn't think they were, sure they hurt, wouldn't broken ribs hurt more? They did burn whenever he talked loudly or laughed, but it didn't feel like he was dying. He had felt worse.

The fourth and fifth day all he did was sleep, exhausted from the previous days. He kept waking up, he couldn't escape the dreams. Each time he would shoot up, first his hands going to his throat in panic then to his ribs in pain. Tubbo had stayed with him those times, Tommy out doing things and Niki looking for Wilbur. She was getting increasingly worried. They hadn't seen him regularly for a while, and she wanted to make sure that he was safe.

Then, the next day.

The sixth day.

Wilbur had shown up.

Tommy had ran to him while he sat in his cot, reading a book that Niki had given him to pass the time.

"Quackity- Big Q-" Quackity could hear the panic in his voice. "Wilbur- Wilbur's here."

"What- what's wrong?" Quackity asked, sitting up so his feet were hanging off the side of the bed so he could stand up.

"Wilbur- he's here and I'm the only one here. Oh God I wish Niki was here. I'm- I'm so sorry Big Q-"

"What?" Quackity was so confused.

"Can you come with? I know you're on crutches, but I don't want to go alone."

Quackity looked at him, thinking what could possibly cause Tommy to be scared of Wilbur like this. "Yeah- Yeah of course."

And that's how Quackity found himself walking in the rain, his crutches being carried by Wilbur who was striding in front of him mission in mind, and Tommy helping him hobble along the uneven wet ground that had left his crutches a muddy mess like his clothes as he had fallen over earlier on the trip.

Quackity could tell why Tommy didn't want to go alone.

Lightning struck in the distance, but Wilbur walked forward as like he didn't care. He had a clear goal, a goal that Tommy and Quackity didn't know about. He yelled over the thunder, continuing his speech that he was giving as Tommy and Quackity struggled to keep up with him.

"That was mistake number one and two. Do you want to hear mistake number three?" Wilbur asked, his voice full of lightness.

Tommy helped Quackity as he stumbled over a tree branch, the woods they were taking dangerously riddled with things that just seemed to have a vendetta against Quackity's ankles. "Uh- Yes?"

Wilbur held up three fingers. "Mistake number three- was easily losing the button."

Quackity noticed the trees thinning out. They must be getting closer to Manburg. His heart picked up. He didn't know if he was ready to go back there yet. And Quackity didn't know what Wilbur was talking about. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

Wilbur looked back at them, looking for their response. Tommy nodded at him.

"So, the last couple of nights, I looked around- I snuck around- searched around-"

"Oh-" Tommy said quietly, only Quackity able to hear under the downpour of rain that was chilling all of them to the bone, soaking their clothes and causing their shirts to stick to their bodies. Wilbur wasn't looking too bothered by it, his coat must've been providing some protection like Quackity's sweatshirt. But Tommy had it the worst, soaking wet wearing only his red and white tee and his bandana that he always had tied around his neck.

"Are you prepared for what you are about to see?" Wilbur's words sent chills down his spine.

Tommy was caught off guard. "Uh- yes. If there is one thing I am-"

Wilbur spun around, looking Tommy straight in the eyes. "You're prepared. Right now? You're in the right headspace to receive information that might upset you?"

"Yeah Tommy, seems like this is a big deal." Quackity awkwardly laughed, trying to lighten the situation.

"I'm- I'm- nothing ever upsets me." Tommy finished, not looking convinced of it himself.

Quackity swooped in to try to save Tommy. "So, is that what you wanted to show us?" He pointed with the arm that wasn't slung over Tommy's shoulder, to the side of the hill that was open to reveal a cave like entrance into a room with dirty yellow stairs.

Wilbur clapped his hands, gleefully smiling like a mad man. "I looked around, and I FOUND IT!" He walked up to the entrance, rubbing his hand on the wall. "I don't know if you saw but I got to there," He pointed about 10 feet away, where a pile of raked up dirt was, "trying to find it- but I forgot I had put a marker on it. If you come up here-" Wilbur strode up the stairs, leaving Tommy to help Quackity up them.

Quackity's spirits dropped when he saw the long tunnel ahead of them, cold anxiety filling his bones. Tommy's breathing was getting shorter, not helping Quackity's anxiety with the situation. Together, they walked down the dark hall that eventually opened up into a small, dark room.

"Holy- HOLLLLY SHITTTTTT" Tommy almost dropped Quackity.

Quackity looked around in disbelief, watching Wilbur lean his crutches up against a pile of explosives. The room itself was dark and decrepit, worthy of any horror movie. But what was worse was the single wooden stool sat in the middle, the explosives on the outskirts of the room, the words painted red on the walls, and the single button sitting in the middle of the stone right in front of them.

Wilbur smiled, his eyes looked a thousand miles away. "Hey. Please don't press that button."

Quackity's mouth was open in disbelief. He didn't understand what he was looking at.

"What the fuck?!"

Will stood in front of them, the wooden stool in between them, arms spread wide. "I'm happy to announce that I've gone out of my way-"

"What is this?!"

Wilbur laughed a dreadful laugh that caused Quackity to tense up. It was too much like Schlatt's for his taste. "I forgot you didn't know Big Q! I was going to blow up the event! Dream gave me the tools to lay the tnt under Manburg." Quackity stood there in shock, using Tommy as support as his legs threatened to give out. "This button is connected to the entire system, which will blow up and ignite the nation."

Wilbur started to pace, making him and Tommy both tense up. "I wanted to bring you Tommy here because- I wanted him to bear witness. But now that you are here, you both can bear witness- I- that day- I missed my chance to blow it up. But you know who is here right now? I can finally do what I said I was going to do! I thought? What better time to eradicate the nation than to do it right now? When Schlatt is right above us."

Schlatt?

He was-

Right above?

Quackity tried not to panic. 

So much was going on at once. 

Quackity started to talk, unable to follow Wilbur's thinking. "Listen listen- blowing up Marburg isn't going to do anything!"

Wilbur scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh you sound just like Tommy- it doesn't matter- we are all going to be dead by the end of today."

Tommy broke through his silence. "What do you mean? Why? Why today?"

Wilbur's demeanor changed. He's eyes sparkled with insanity, his smile turning into a snarl. "I'm going to do it today."

"What do you mean today?!"

Quackity pushed himself off of Tommy, stumbling forward as he spread his wings out to cut Wilbur off from the button. Tommy, seeing what he was doing, followed suit. Quackity didn't know if he could fight against Wilbur if he attacked, something that he was now thinking could possibly happen.

"Move away from the button."

Wilbur's voice started to get a bit panicky, he stepped back and looked around in shock as he found that his back was now against the wall. "Listen- listen-" He held his hands out in defense. "Big Q. I'll explain it to you. Yesterday I had the perfect opportunity to blow everything up and finally end it. THE PERFECT! And just completely save everyone from the tyranny of Schlatt and the tyranny of Manburgs very existence."

Tommy turned his face away from Wilbur, whispering to Quackity. "What do we do?"

Wilbur's hands fell to his side. "Are- are you going to try to stop me?"

Quackity tried to keep the conversation moving so that Wilbur couldn't manipulate it. "What are you even talking about?! I'm sorry- Wilbur-"

Wilbur stood there, all the previous energy of his maniac yelling gone, only confusion. "Eh- what?-"

Quackity continued, "Wilbur listen listen. You can't do that. Marburg-"

Wilbur walked forward, causing Quackity to panic. He couldn't hold up against Wilbur, he could barely stand up. But Tommy was there, and he stepped in front of him and forced him back a step.

Wilbur talked, a calm to his voice that Quackity knew was insane. It was Schlatt. Schlatt's voice. The way-

"You aren't blocking the button, I can still click it. If I really went at it."

Tommy gritted his teeth, trying to stop his shaking hands. They needed to do this. To save L'Manburg. To save all the people who lived there. To save Wilbur. Because there would be no coming back from this. "Hey big Q can you help me grab him really quick."

"What?" Wilbur stuttered as Tommy reached forward, grabbing one of his hands as Wilbur struggled against him, his back once again pressing into the corner.

"Nonononono, just stand there just stand there listen let me talk to you-" Quackity still held his wings up, despite the aching he felt in his entire body.

"Please let go of me." Wilbur's voice was painfully soft. "Please let me go. The minute I'm through you I'm pressing the button. Say your last words now. Say it now."

Quackity could believe this was the same Wilbur he knew. "Wilbur! IT's not FUCKING WORTH IT! YOUR GOING TO DO SO MUCH FUCKING HARM!"

Tommy joined in."THIS ISN'T THE RIGHT THING TO DO!" Wilbur pushed against Tommy again, and this time Tommy was more forceful, throwing him back. Wilbur's breath was knocked out of him, and he hung his head for a second to catch his breath before he stood back up again, looking Tommy in the eyes.

Wilbur continued talking in his eerie voice. 

He was insane.

"I'm pressing that button and us three are running. I'm going to press it. I'm going to keep going. Eventually I'm going to get through."

Quackity could barely stand. "Nnononononononononon-"

Tommy held up his fists. "Don't test me-"

Wilbur started to walk forward again, trying once more to step around Tommy, this time more force in his step. "DON'T FUCKING DO THIS!" Quackity yelled.

Wilbur stopped walking, and Quackity noticed tears running down his face. "GIVE ME A REASON! GIVE ME A REASON!" His voice went from calm to desperate, empty and yet still so full of raw, twisted emotions.

Quackity responded, his own passion bubbling over. This was his nation Wilbur was going to destroy. He had sacrificed SO MUCH FOR THIS NATION. He wasn't going to let it all go to hell now. "You're not going to destroy Schlatt! This isn't going to fix things!"

Tommy backed him up. "It's wrong! IT'S WRONG!"

Wilbur snarled. "Well- well who else is it going to hurt! I'm hurting Schlatt! Isn't that what matters?!"

Tommy threw his hands in exasperation. "You're going to hurt literally everybody! Tubbo! Niki! Everybody in Manburg. Innocents. Everything you've worked for!" Tommy pushed Wilbur again, this time pinning his shoulders to the wall.

Wilbur tried to shake him off. "Jesus Christ let me go. Let me go."

Tommy was practically in Wilbur's face. "Wilbur- we can still take it back. We can still- this isn't the right button to press."

Wilbur pulled against Tommy, almost breaking his hold. "I'm pressing it-"

Quackity moved so he was practically a body shield over the button. "You can't do that fucking shit. You're going to hurt so many more people than you are going to save."

Wilbur exasperatingly cried out, "Why did I bring you- I should've just done it. I'm such a fucking showman. I should've just done it."

Tommy was on the bridge of tears, hot anger and emotions consuming his body as he watched the one person he respected the most about to destroy everything he loved. "Wilbur Wilbur- Wilbur-" He stuttered, his tongue caught, "Wilbur- everyone is going to die with you. THIS isn't fair."

Quackity leaned against the wall, his ankle finally giving out. "There are so many people living here!"

Wilbur ripped out of Tommy's hold, and in reflex Tommy punched him, Wilbur stumbling back in shock before Tommy slammed his hands back on Wilbur's shoulders, locking him against the wall once more.

"Stop stop stop stop STOP!" Quackty was in full blown panic mode.

Tommy stared dead into Wilbur's eyes, searching for his brother. "If you are blowing this up, you're taking all three of us with you. We're all going down. "

Wilbur broke the gaze, whining softly. "I just want to press it."

Tommy shoved Wilbur hard back against the wall, and Wilbur fell, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. Tommy stared at him, daring him to try to stand back up. Once he was sure he wouldn't move, he walked away, moving crates of explosives around. "See- now I blocked the exit. I blocked the exit. We will go down with you. You will kill yourself."

Wilbur put a hand on his head. "Why do you have to make it so difficult- if you'd just let me press the button-"

Tommy stopped him, his voice cold. "So do you want us to die with you?"

"No. no. I don't want to take you with me. I don't want you two to die."

Tommy couldn't bear to look at him.

"Let him stand.. Let him up." He said to Quackity.

Quackity's head flicked between the two, "You... Wilbur...."

Tommy put his hand up, and Quackity stopped fighting. He lowered his wings, his body aching as he used the stool to sit on the ground. He couldn't stand anymore.

Tommy spat at Wilbur, his words cold and sharp. "If you press the button, we die as well. You kill everyone. Not just yourself."

Wilbur laughed hysterically, wiping tears from his eyes. "You love it don't you Tommy?"

Tommy didn't say anything.

"You love L'Manburg?"

Tommy was silent, really thinking what was the best way to answer.

"Yes."

Wilbur looked to Quackity who was sitting across the floor from him. "And you want to help?"

Quackity tried to smile reassuringly. "When I ran against you, Wilbur, it wasn't against you and Tommy. It was for my nation. I've done everything for my nation. It was to save L'manburg. I just wanted more freedom for that land. You blowing it up ruins everything that- it ruins it."

Tommy crossed his arms. "You're not just ruining your L'Manburg, you're ruining everybody's Manburg."

Wilbur started to stand up, but Tommy rushed to stand in front of the button. Wilbur rose, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Step to the side Tommy. Step to the side. That's an order."

"No."

Wilbur's face was unmoving. It was a drastic change. His emotions swung so much it was unnerving. "Step to the side."

Quackity hissed. "Don't do it. Don't fucking do it."

"If you trusted me you would step to one side."

"Do you really want to do this? Do you want to kill us all?" Tommy clenched his hands.

"Tommy," Wilbur forced him to look up at him, into the face of his older brother, "If you trusted me you would move."

Tommy unclenched his hands, his entire mind screaming that he was doing something wrong as he moved out of the way, the button ready for the pressing. "If you want to kill us all, then be my guest. But I don't think-"

The entire room felt like a burden was lifted from it as Wilbur reached under the button, putting his hand in a compartment just below and pulling out some wires, the tips sparking at the end. Quackity could've cried with relief.

"Tommy," Wilbur stared at the broken wires in his hand. "We've tried my ideas. I'm going to try listening to you. I'll- I'm going to follow you. Whatever you think- I'll do it. We've tried my ideas."

Tommy took the first breath he had managed to take in a while. He couldn't believe what just happened, what Will had almost just done.

"We've tried my ideas."


	29. Escape II

Something in the air had changed.

Philza could feel it.

He had been meditating, and he was proud to say he was getting impressively good with his magic. It's the only thing he had been doing. Grinding constantly. Because if he slowed down any, he started to feel himself slip. He couldn't allow that to happen. The loneliness was starting to get to him, desperation sneaked up on him more than he would like to admit. But for the endless hours he threw himself into practicing magic, he could ignore it. He needed to ignore it. He couldn't afford to lose the fight now.

He was going to win. 

If he wasn't constantly practicing, he was constantly researching. 

His books were becoming filled, the pages close to running out. He kept data on the old ancient cities he found, on the endermen, on the concept of the void itself, anything to keep moving. The last thing he had been doing was completing his pages on the dragon. He had taken the liberty of naming her species, seeing on how nobody else in the entire overworld would ever have a chance like he did. Philza didn't know if their was a difference between normal dragons and Rutha, but he had read many different fables that he could barely remember now and if he was thinking correctly, not all dragons looked how she did, so he felt safe enough to assume that since dragons were actually real, there could be multiple different species that needed classifying. After much thinking, he had decided that the perfect name would be an enderdragon, based off of her diet and the entire workings of the place they were stuck it.

The void.

Or as Philza was starting to see it, the End.

If he got back home, that's what he thinks he'll name it.

Wait.

Not if.

When. 

When he got back home. 

God, it'll be such a hard thing to explain. 

First he would have to go home. To his kids. But then after...

He would find the Major archives and report his findings. 

The Major archives were the one scientific group that Philza trusted. All others were run by nations. By kingdoms. And god forbid Philza be the person who turns in a piece of information that gives one kingdom power over another on accident. He stayed away from kingdoms ever since... Well, it was a long story. He didn't like talking about it. He had a good reason for not trusting governments. However, the Major archives were run by a singular person that he had met on several different professional occasions with no alliance to any territory. The dude was literally just a collector. But he wasn't your typical rich man looking to show things off at his mansion. No, this man was the owner of a private organization that paid researchers and employees to maintain an archive that people with permission could go and visit, sort of like a library. Some thought he was a fraud, a hoarder, the museum wasn't open to everybody. But on his behalf, he had a good reason. Things in the archives could be worth a ton of gold and not to mention could be extremely dangerous. For the purpose of keeping away looters, the base was top secret, if you wanted to visit you had to send in an application, it would need to be approved, then they would find you, consensually knock you out and drag you to the base, where you would be watched the entire time, then when you wanted to leave it would be the same. It was a fever dream and a half. Philza had done it multiple times, and he had to admit the experience was a bit trippy but the archive was worth it. It was absolutely breathtaking. Philza could get lost for days there, and that was only the stuff he was allowed to see. There were also several layers of security and restricted areas that Philza could only image what those halls held inside of them. But, back on topic, the man who ran this all was a good guy; he wasn't doing it for gain. He paid all of his employees generously, and he also paid any adventurer that brought him things fair compensation. And how did he pay for this? The Major corporation also ran the every five year arena tournaments that dictated the rankings lists. The MCC. Major Corporation Championship. Philza had participated in the last two, and his last one he had won first place for adventurer rank. It was hard, dangerous, and deadly, and Philza had come close to death in the competition. But he won in such a way that the entire overworld was talking about it years after. His winning was something spectacular, something the event so exciting that it became the only thing really watched that year despite the qualified other categories that others ran in. He became a legend. Philza didn't really care about the fame, that was just what he viewed as a side effect of completing a life goal. But the experience had been surreal either way. After he won he had met the man who ran it all, Scott Major, and had a conversation that convinced Philza that he was a good guy. So, after that, Philza had decided that if he found anything ground breaking, anything that the entire world needed to know about, he would take it to the Major archives. That was the only place he was sure the information would be safe. 

At first, Philza really just wanted to have his own archive. But he hadn't been able to follow that dream. That was okay. Maybe later into retirement. However, right now, Philza was sure that this place he was in was something that was going to change how everybody viewed the world. 

This place was something big. 

Philza figered this is the one thing that kept him sane. Being able to plan for the future. Being able to think about what he'll do when he gets out. Being able to feel like what he is suffering through will be worth it to the world of research in the future. 

That and being able to talk to Rutha. 

But he hadn't been able to do that lately. 

Rutha had been missing for a while now.

Philza knew how tricky time was down here, but she's been gone for what Philza would equate for a week. The longest week down here. Even in the beginning, Rutha had been around. First she was a terrifying creature he watched from afar, and now she was a majestic intelligent beast who he could talk to to stop himself from losing his sanity. Philza mentally reached into the void, trying to pinpoint her magical aura. It was hard, the void was filled with constant power overloading any meditation. It's weird to think that until recently Philza couldn't feel any of it. Now, after practicing for practically every day, it just seemed natural to him. It makes him wonder what else he had no idea about. Scrunching his eyes closed, he searched for Rutha's location. 

No. Nothing.

This was the tenth time. 

Nothing was coming up.

Philza was starting to get worried. Surely it couldn't just be him messing up? Not ten times in a row? What if something bad had happened to Rutha? She was his one way ticket out of here. 

He needed to try something else.

Philza had been fighting his natural logic recently. Being here, he realized that things don't need to make sense. That the world doesn't need to make sense. What mattered was finding out what the rules were, and rolling with it. And that took a lot of experimenting and doing things that didn't make logical sense. Like doing magic. Like teleporting. Like what he was about to do now. 

He outstretched his hand and clenched it, drawing in magic from the void like he does when he teleported. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, he was acting on instinct. Disregarding logic. 

I need to find her. Philza thought. Give me something that will find her.

Philza unclenched his hand, watching in surprise as a little green glowing wisp escaped from his fingers.

It was just like that night-

Philza's analytical mind started running. If he had been able to conjure the same power that had led him here in the first place, did that mean he had accidentally conjure it when he was running in the stronghold? Did he accidentally do that? Was his will to escape enough to stimulate his magic that he didn't even know he had? If so, why did his magic lead him here? Philza was sure what was happening was more harm than help. Or maybe it was just a law of attraction. Maybe his magic was attracted to the void, just like how Rutha and Philza shared similar magical abilities.

The wisp hovered, bobbing gently in the air.

Like it was waiting.

Like it wanted something.

Act on instinct. 

Disregard logic. 

"Take me to Rutha." He said, aloud.

Philza had trouble opening his wings fast enough to keep up with the wisp, as soon as the words were out of his mouth it shot straight up into the air, leaving a neon trail in its path. Philza's heart accelerated. He couldn't believe it worked. But he also needed to keep up. It was traveling fast. Philza flew after, the light just barely staying in his field of vision.

He traveled through the dark air, hoping this wasn't a mistake.

>{}<

Philza's wings were starting to ache, flying for so long.

Which was saying something. Philza had been training for long distance flights since almost the beginning of being trapped here so that he didn't fall into the void if he misjudged how long a trip would be.

Death by void didn't sound too appealing.

The average winged person had to train hard to be able to fly long distances. If you weren't a species born with wings automatically, and they developed later in life such as the majority of people with fae blooded wings, it took hard work to match the level of a natural born winged species. But Philza had been putting in the hard work. Because what else did he have to do?

And yet, here he was, starting to get worried whether on not he should turn around before he just dropped into the void. 

That would be such a stupid way to go. 

He must've been flying for a long time.

So when the giant island of black obsidian came into view, he was ready to crash and take a breather. Luckily for him, that's exactly where the wisp started to head.

As they got closer, Philza started to see more and more of the island.

The island was weird. 

For starters, there wasn't any endermen on it.

That was a crazy thought. Philza had been surrounded by their constant noises for far too long, the mumbling alone enough to make him crazy. But here it was quiet, something he normally only got when he flew about above the mobs that were loud as hell. 

It...

It looked suspiciously like a dragon's nest.

Philza guesses that makes sense. He hadn't seen Rutha's "home" ever. Had never seen her really sleep. Philza guessed she had a nest far away from the towers, but he was a bit shocked to see it for the first time. It was shaped a bit smaller than the main island, and the big difference was that it was black instead of the disgusting dusty yellow sand that Philza had grown to know. 

The wisp flew straight to the island, straight to Rutha who laid curled in the middle. 

Philza smiled. Finally he had some company again. He didn't know what he would do if she had been dead. Philza didn't get too close, knowing how territorial she was. Instead, he flew around the outskirts, watching her scales move up and down with her deep heavy breaths of sleep. 

The wisp disappeared with a shimmer of light, leaving just him and Rutha. Philza touched down, landing, his wings burning in relief. That really was a worrying long trip he took. Taking some deep breaths he looked around, trying to get a better sense of his surroundings. He was getting the feel for things when Rutha rose her head, the noises he was making waking her up. With a deep throated gurgle she yawned, her movement revealing the inside of her curled up body.

And the egg she was curled around.

Hope bloomed inside Philza, he was unable to contain the sudden flare of joy.

No fucking way.

No fucking way.

Yes. Yes- yes yes yes yes yes yes yes-

"Rutha!" Philza walked forward, his breathing quick.

He was getting home. 

He was fucking escaping this hell.

He was leaving the End. 

Rutha didn't like him running up to her. Her scales rustling like brushing tree leaves on a windy day, she unfurled and bared her teeth with a deep rumbling in her throat as she took a defensive position, standing over the egg.

Fuck. 

Philza had forgotten what he was dealing with for a second. 

A deadly beast. 

"Woah there let's just talk this out-" Philza rose his hands, stopping in his tracks.

Philza knew how powerful she was.

He had seen her hunt endermen before.

Seen him bite them in two with one crunch. 

He never thought he would be on the other side.

Shit.

All that bonding he had tried to do.

All that trust he had tried to build.

It wasn't enough.

She was going to kill him if he tried to touch her egg.

This wasn't going to be easy.

He held his wings close to his body. Tucking them as close as possible. He was trying to make himself look less like a threat.

"Rutha..." he tried to start, but he was cut off by her terrifying roar.

Fuck.

Fuck shit motherfucker.

Her teeth were knives, her claws were swords, and yet that wasn't the most terrifying thing about her squaring up to Philza.

It was the purple smoke that now built up and seeped from her jaws like mist from the rising from the crashing water of a waterfall, the alive power snaking on the ground and pulsing with energy.

She was going to attack.

Fuck.

She rose to her hind legs, before crashing down with her front claws, the ground splitting and purple smoke erupting from the cracks like geysers, Philza opening his wings and taking flight, the dusty smoke entering his lungs and burning his throat.

He flew in the air, changing his direction, ready to charge. He would make a rush. He didn't want to hurt her. He wasn't even going to hurt the egg. At least, if the ritual he had researched was correct. But Rutha didn't understand his mortal thinking. Rutha fought back. A burst of magic hit him head on, purple energy exploding right in front of him as he threw his arms out in defense.

He fully expected to be hit, to be thrown out of the air and tumbling on the hard obsidian.

Instead, brilliant green light exploded from his hands, bouncing the energy right off, the force of the blast causing wind to rip at his clothes, fluttering his hair about.

What the hell-

Philza knew he was getting better at magic. But it always took concentration. Always.

He had just done that on instinct.

Philza didn't have time to fly in place, dumbfounded.

Rutha was following her magical burst with a lunge, teeth black and dripping with toxic liquid, so endless black like the empty void.

Philza pressed his fingers together, disappearing and reappearing a few feet back, adrenaline keeping him on his feet despite the nausea of teleporting.

"Woah there." He held out his hands, breathing heavy. Maybe... maybe he could talk his way out of this. Maybe. That had been too fucking close. "Woah there. It's okay."

His attempts to calm Rutha were pointless, smashing her leg on the ground she cracked the black stone and causing Philza to take flight once again. "Listen. I have family too. I have kids I have to get back home to."

He flew above, the beast opening her wings rearing up on her hind legs.

"Please. Please just let me move the egg. I won't cause any damage. I promise." Philza tried his soothing voice. To be non-threatening.

Magical energy built again, exploding in the air just to the left of him as he brought his arm up in defense, green glowing like wisps following the motion and protecting him from the force.

He didn't know he could control his magic like that.

"Rutha... Rutha come on."

Philza knew that this was only going to end in a fight. There was no way he could talk his way out of this. And there was no way that Philza wasn't taking that egg. He was getting out of here. He was. No question.

"Please."

Rutha flapped her wings, picking up wind currents and causing him to fight the gusts in the air.

"Why do you have to make this difficult?"

Philza drew his sword. The only weapon he had.

His weapon that had been with him since the beginning.

Rutha stood her ground, powerful magic building up, toxic saliva dripping on to the ground and sizzling on the floor.

He didn't want to fight, he didn't want to hurt her. He just needed to get home.

Desperately.

He would get home.

Or die trying.

Rutha leapt at him, and he just barely managed to doge, his own skin cut on her rough sandpaper scales, but he flew over her back, tucking his wings and getting around her. Reaching out his hand, he managed to brush his fingertips along the tip of the egg, the black scaly thing just a bit bigger than his head. He released the magic he had been holding, the darkness taking him.

He had to play smarter.

No way he'd be able to take her in a head to head fight.

So he teleported with the egg.

Disoriented, he reappeared, freefalling into the void, the egg falling next to him.

Shit.

Instinctively he reached out, closing his wings and diving faster down, swooping in to grab the egg. He heard Rutha roaring in the background, angered beyond anything he had ever seen.

Philza had been trying to teleport to the altar. It looks like he wasn't strong enough for such a long jump. He could see the main island, but distantly, towers and the weird purple crystals spinning on top. But he couldn't see the nest. He would have just a bit of time before Rutha caught up to him.

Or so he thought.

Purple smoke filled the air, something other than just black void for the first time since he had been down here. It burned his lungs when he breathed it in, the toxic fumes causing him to falter a bit in his rapid flight to the island. With a trembling in the sky, Philza felt the vibrations in the magic as Rutha appeared behind him, flying above, rage shaking the very existence of the End.

He wasn't going to make it he wasn't going to make it he wasn't going to make it.

Philza dived, changing his flight patterns to try to throw her off. He was flying as fast as he could possibly go, adrenaline sparking in every fiber of his body, magic humming in his veins.

He needed to make it he needed to make it he needed to make it.

He flew over the spot where he had first teleported in, gaining ground on the altar. He was so close.

A bright green wisp glowed at the tip of the altar, circling it like a beacon of hope.

His entire world was shifted, a huge blow hitting him in the back and knocking him to the ground. Breath knocked out of his lungs, he hugged the egg protectively, wings wrapping around himself as he instinctively braced for impact, ground scraping at the back of his wings and the force causing his vision to black out for a second.

He was so close.

Ground breaking as Rutha landed, the toxic smoke spilling out of her mouth, she charged up another blast in her throat.

He was so close.

He could see the green wisp over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He muttered to Rutha, out of breath, scrambling to his feet and shakily running forward, his body still feeling the pain of being hit.

He lunged, sure he only had a few seconds left before Rutha released another wave of attacks.

The wisp guided his actions.

It floated around the center of the altar, the altar having a delicate looking opening carved into it to hold something of the egg's size, looking awfully similar to the pedestal holding stands of the portal he took to get to the End in the first place.

He didn't have time to hesitate.

With a giant pulsing burst of energy, green light exploded from the spot he placed down the egg, Philza shielding his eyes and Rutha's pained roars being drowned out by the ear splitting hum that blinded the black world.

But Philza was already disappearing.

His body burned as he felt the familiar sting of teleportation.

And he was gone.

>{}<

Darkness.

It filled his head.

Filled his thoughts.

He felt like he was drowning.

He remembered this feeling.

He remembered jumping into the void the first time.

This was also what teleporting felt like- minus the excruciating pain.

And it was longer.

Philza felt himself free falling, wind rushing past him, as he fell in the darkness.

Open your eyes.

Philza tried to force himself to wake up.

Open your eyes.

His eyes fluttered open, and immediately he was blinded, bright light causing him to lose his vision and spots danced behind his eyes. He brought his hands up to cover his face, to stop the light from exploding his brain.

He was still falling.

Not knowing which way he was facing, he just threw his wings out, hoping to catch some air.

He slowed, but not much.

Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot-

Philza's entire body crashed into water, his rigid clenched muscles unable to maintain their tensed shape as his skin burned from impact. Dazed, he couldn't hold his breath, bubbles escaping his mouth, his head pounding like it was about to explode. He needed to breathe. He couldn't stop the choking, the blue and black spots dancing behind his eyes. Philza's brain fuzzed over, he couldn't think straight. Anguish had taken over his throat, his fingers clawing at the water, his mouth gasping as water spilled into his lungs. Time unraveled, the only feelings other than his body filling with water was the throbbing of his stinging limbs, hanging limply in the water and panic that caused him to grab at his throat, trying to bring oxygen back into his body. Nobody was there to save him. He convulsed, lungs collapsing. Pain, horrible pain, water closing in on all sides, Philza weakly tried to kick upwards, but he didn't know which way was which. He needed to get out. He needed to breathe. Teleport. Teleport. Teleport. Get out-get out get out get out- but despite the thoughts, he didn't have the strength. He was drifting, drifting into the depths of the water, exchanging one prison for another. With the revelation that he didn't have enough magic- enough strength- to save him, a part of him accepted the water that was killing him. No. No. No. No. No. His thoughts were so muddled, he was so dizzy, but a part of him deep in his brain was desperately fighting for any last bit of energy. He needed to see his family again. He had worked so hard. To die now- no. He wasn't going to die now. He couldn't. He couldn't- He.... He... He couldn't- His struggling slowed, the last bubbles escaping his open lips. All he wanted to do was sleep. He couldn't think. Everything hurt. But sleep was right around the corner, his consciousness fading into it's open arms.

His mind faded to black.

What a stupid fucking way to die.

Sweet air filled his lungs. Philza retched, his body being dragged out from the water and onto another surface that he couldn't even begin to comprehend what it was. All he could do was cough.

"You good there, buddy?"

Philza barely recognized the hand patting his back, encouraging his coughing fit of water.

"Took quite a crash there, didn't ya?"

Philza coughed and coughed, the only thing he could think about was getting oxygen back in his lungs. It burned. Finally, after a while, Philza stopped coughing, pressing his forehead against whatever wall was right in front of him. He still didn't open his eyes, instead feeling the rough grooves of wood under his fingertips and the gentle lull of whatever he was on. He breathed, grateful for every breath, exhaustion encompassing his entirety.

Water dripped from his bent head, shivers of cold water and shock causing him to shake despite the warm sunlight on his back.

Sunlight....?

Philza gasped a couple more breaths before forcing his eyes slightly open, this time prepared for the blinding light.

The light....

His mouth hung open, his brain taking it all in. It honestly was too much. The sky was so blue, the clouds were prettier than he could've ever remembered, the little boat he was currently laying on a sight that Philza never thought would bring him to tears. He smiled like an idiot, despite the burning in his body.

He could barely even talk, his voice a horse whisper. "I made it."

"Yes. Yes you did." Philza looked up to see the face of his savoir, an elderly man with a fishing hat and a wispy white mustache. His voice was gravely with age, his face tanned from days in the harsh sun.

He was the first human Philza had seen in forever.

Philza opened his mouth to say thank you, but instead all he could do was cough.

"Woah! Woah there take it easy."

The new voice came from his left side, he turned to look and see a young woman soaking wet in a tank top and shorts, a similar fishing attire and tools on her belt. "You just almost drowned! Give yourself a break!"

Philza ignored them, instead trying to push magic into his body to speed up his healing process. It worked a bit, enough to make the pounding headache in his head lessen a bit, his ears a bit less muffled.

He was-

He was out of the void.

If he wasn't soaking wet, water droplets still rushing down his body, the two newcomers would've noticed him crying silent tears of happiness.

Everything....

Everything was so much more beautiful than he remembered.

The gruff old man spoke again, moving about the boat, doing boat things Philza assumed. "You youngins; such daredevils. I don't know exactly how wings are supposed to work, and I won't pretend to, but whatever you did to cause that, I'm sure it was irresponsible and of thrill seeking nature."

"Grandpa," The young lady whined. "He literally almost died! Save the lecture!"

Philza's head was in only one direction. "I made it." He whispered again, almost in disbelief.

He was going to see his family again.

"You did! And it's a good thing we were here too, otherwise you would be fish food right about now!" The old man heaved an anchor into the boat, pulling it up from its resting place deep in the water. "You're also lucky my Granddaughter is such a strong young lass. Swimming champion of this town! Stronger than any man here!"

"Grannnndddpppaaaa-"

"Where- where am I?" Philza mumbled, "What town is this?"

The grandpa leaned in forward, hand to his ear. "What did you say?!"

The granddaughter rolled her eyes. "He said, what town is this?"

"Oh." The grandpa stood back up, rolling his long sleeves back a bit. "Boatwright Bay. Best fishing town in the Dreamlands!"

Philza coughed some more into his hand. "What-? I've never heard of this town."

"What??????" The old man was almost comically shocked. "You've never heard of us?!"

"I'm sure he meant no harm, Grandpa."

"No harm my ass." The old man grumbled under his breath before dropping the subject, sitting on a wooden bench in the boat. "Well, anyways young lad, what name shall I call you?"

"Uhhh-" He scrunched his eyes, his head still pounding a bit. "Philza. Name's Philza."

"I like it. A nice strong and short name. Straight to the point." The old man slapped his knee before taking a swig of whatever he had in his mystery bottle that he had pulled out from under the bench. "Hummmmm.... Sounds familiar."

"It is a good name." His granddaughter hummed in agreement. "But you think everything sounds familiar, Grandpa."

He laughed, his head thrown back in a pure and genuine chuckle. Oh, Philza had missed the sound of other voices. "That's because I used to know everything, lassy. So where will we be taking you, Philza? Got a home that we can drop you off at? Money for the inn? Or do I need to take ya home with me. You're not a bad looking man, and my granddaughter here is very single and very amazing. Did I mention she's the strongest swimmer in all the coastal villages?"

"Ewwww!" His granddaughter scrunched her nose, "He's like... at least ten years older than me!"

"Oh. Sorry. My eyes must be getting pretty bad." The man pulled a dusty looking pair of glasses out of his overall pockets, one of the glasses' lens chipped and the other missing the ear piece.

Philza was exhausted, but he managed to continue to conversation through his coughing. It must've been thanks to the healing he was pushing into his body. "I'm also married."

"GRANDPA!" The young lady covered her face, embarrassed as she looked to Philza's hand, at the band around his finger. "You really need to stop doing this! He literally almost just died! And he's so old that he's married!"

"Sorry, Lassie." He laughed, "I just assumed only a real younging like you would do something as stupid as going and getting himself drowned." He slipped on the glasses, the frame sitting crooked on his wrinkled nose. "So, what will it be, boy? To the village?"

"Just take me to land." Philza reached around, happy to find that he still had a soaking wet bag on his back and sword on his hip. These things have really stood the test of time. Luckily for him, he still had quite a bit of money left in his bag from his last time in the overworld, not needing to bother with it in the void. He would find a store, buy new clothes.

Philza melted at the thought of new clothes.

He would buy an amazing meal.

Philza's stomach growled, his mouth watering. He hadn't had anything proper to eat in ages.

And he would buy an inn room to sleep.

In a bed.

IN A BED.

"Can do!" The granddaughter pulled at some ropes, the boat's small sail changing directions.

"LAND HO!"

>{}<

Philza sat at the town bar, eating as much food as humanly possible.

He was exhausted, his body hurt like hell, all he wanted to do was go to sleep.

But he wanted to eat food more.

The bartender shot him a sideways glance at the sheer amount of food that he had ordered, but he didn't care. He was already getting plenty of sideways glances for all his peculiarities. His clothes were in tatters, he looked a right mess, and his wings didn't help at all. Also, when he first stepped into the town's clothes shop he was soaking wet still, causing the lady at the counter to be very irritated with him.

"So." The clothes shop lady had put her hands on her hips. "That'll be 50 copper."

Philza searched through his bag, only to find silver at the least. "Would you take 3 silver?"

She mumbled under her breath before talking louder for him to hear. "Fine. Sure. I'll take 3 silver."

"Also," Philza said, putting 15 on the counter. "I would like to change into these clothes, and then can you see if you could repair my set?"

"What?"

"Could you repair my clothes? I'm quite attached to them."

The lady grumbled under her breath. "What the hell. Why the hell would you want those wretched clothes patched up again." She coughed, switching back into her customer voice, unable to turn down 15 silver. "Yes. Of course."

"Thank you."

Philza felt bad, dragging all the water into her shop and making a scene. He definitely didn't need to pay her so much, but after being trapped for so long money seemed like an arbitrary thing now. What was a bit more silver extra, really?

Plus, he liked the reaction when he tipped the waitress in silver rather than copper or bronze.

It had gotten her to stop looking at him so weirdly.

And it had made her much more talkative.

She filled up his drink, making small talk. "So, first time around Boatwright Bay?"

"Yeah. I kinda crash landed here." He said, shoving some pancakes down his throat. Man, breakfast food. He couldn't even begin to describe the joy he was feeling right now.

"Crash landed? What were you doing that caused you to crash land?"

"I was flying."

The lady waited for him to continue, but when he just shoved more food down she smiled awkwardly.

"Hey, actually," Philza started as she looked as if she was about to walk away. "I have a question."

"Yeah. What is it?"

"I need to get back to my own town, but it doesn't have a name. Just cords. Do you know the cords for this place?"

"Cords?" The lady repeated back, confused.

"Cords. Like coordinate points."

"Oh! Sorry, it's been so long since anybody's really said much about the old mapping system. Ever since Dream's rule, we haven't needed to use cords cus' of the maps he had put in place for us. Wow. What a throwback."

"Throwback?" Philza's brain was too exhausted to properly think about what she had just said.

"Yeah. But I can always check with the owner through chat. Give me a sec."

"Wait, wait, chat?" Philza had stopped eating.

The lady looked up at him, confused, as if he should know what this was. "Uhhh, proximity chat?"

"What is that?"

"Man. You must really have come from a small village. It's like- well, do you know what the original proximity was?"

"Yeah- yeah it was when a psychic person could link minds to send short messages within a certain proximity."

"Alrighty. Now, this brilliant person who I do not remember the name found a way to combine red stone and this magic, and create a new invention that allows non-magical folk to talk across short distances. Now all you need is money to do this." She pulled out a small looking device that she placed down on the table that lit up, a small flat surface much like the sheen of a mirror. "The more expensive you buy them, the more advanced they are. This one is like one of the cheapest models, it's pretty basic, but the newer ones are way more streamlined and easier to handle."

Philza wasn't listening anymore. A terrible thought started to form in his head.

"Wait wait wait- did you say Dream's rule?"

"Yes. The King." She looked uncomfortably around.

Philza was starting to freak out a bit.

No. It couldn't have been. It only felt like a year at most.

"Wait- who is number one for the adventurer rankings?"

The lady smiled, a question she could finally answer with confidence. "Oh! Well, it's only scouting right now, the MCC is a couple years out, but tied for first place is Dream and Technoblade."

His brain stuttered, his heart stopped.

No. No. No. No.

It couldn't be real.

It couldn't be real.

It couldn't be real.

It hadn't felt that long.

No way it could've been that long.

No way-

Philza looked up at the bartender in shock. 

"What the fuck?"


	30. Rigged

Bent over, back up against the dirt walls in the bedroom inside the bottom floor of Pogtopia, Quackity chewed on the end of his quill, looking down at the scribbled notes he had before him.

Quackity had moved down into the downstairs bedroom, Tommy and Tubbo assuring him that it would be alright if he slept in Techno's bed. Niki had been sleeping there, and she claimed she didn't mind it, but Quackity knew that he had been taking up Niki's cot for too long, Niki being forced to share a room with the rest of the boys. Plus, he was good enough with his crutches now that he could go up and down the rail-less stairwell with only a small amount of paranoia. Who the hell designed the stairs to be like that? One stumble and he'd fall to his death. Not really though. Even if his wings were clipped, he still believed that he would be able to catch enough air to slow his descent to a non-life threatening level. But it would still hurt.

Whatever the case, Quackity was now in Techno's cot, Techno still missing and Wilbur still as insane as ever. Big Q got why Tommy was so scared of Wilbur now.

Wilbur was not the same man he remembered.

Quackity shivered and pushed back his thoughts. He needed to focus on what he was writing.

He felt sick to his stomach.

This wasn't going to work.

Quackity felt the clock ticking down for him. He needed to get a plan together. He needed to have something to present to Wilbur. Because if he didn't...

Things would go horribly wrong.

It had been three nights ago, but still it replayed in his head, like a ghost haunting his thoughts.

Tommy sat on the stone floor, not feet away from where Quackity sat now in Techno's cot. "Look at me, and I hate to say it," Tommy's words filled the small area, his voice filled with youth and humor despite the serious conversation they were having, "and maybe because I'm a sixteen year child but I know Schlatt thinks you have a..." He coughed, lowering his voice so Niki couldn't hear from wherever she was in the ravine, "F a t a s s- as he repeatedly says."

Wilbur said nothing, instead standing up while Big Q and Tommy sat, his eyebrows scrunched as he was lost in thought.

Quackity tried to ignore Wilbur's draining presence. "Yeah. Yeah I do have a fat ass."

Tommy continued, his hands waving as he talked. "-and I know he might still be done with you as vice president but I know..." Tommy lowered his voice once again, "I know you're still his bitch."

Quackity had to stop himself from itching at his arms. He couldn't anyways, they were still wrapped up in bandages. But it was a tic that he needed to get rid of that happened whenever he was uncomfortable. "Mmmm. Shut the hell up. That's definitely not how it is." He ended with a laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, despite how that had really pressed a nerve.

"Listen listen listen!" Tommy looked up at him, "No no Big Q, here me out. We can use that. He'll still want to meet with you. Like he said, all he did was throw his responsibility on you and Tubbo. You can get Schlatt to meet with us. Can you? Because if you can then I have a plan."

Quackity swallowed hard, not daring himself to look up at Wilbur who was studying him intently. He hadn't said a word this entire conversation. It didn't help what Quackity was trying to do. He was trying to pretend that he was okay, that Schlatt didn't bother him. That he wasn't intimidated by him. That the thought of Schlatt even being near him was enough to make him want to tear these bandages off as he picked at his skin.

"Up until this point.... What is left of me and Schlatt..."

Quackity trailed off. He didn't know what was left of him and Schlatt. Schlatt had literally threatened to kill him, sending his men after him. But he was sure that Schlatt had a soft spot for him. Out of everybody that Schlatt had pushed away, he had always kept Quackity close. He still held what Schlatt had said close to his heart, a different memory that he couldn't afford to waste time on right now.

"As long as you stay with me, as long as you don't betray me, you can never do anything that would make me hate you. Anything that would make me disgusted of you. You don't know what I've done, Alex. I've done worse things than you could ever imagine."

It was so conflicting, so confusing. He hated it. His heart hurt. But he also remembered to promise. The bruises on his neck. Technically, he hadn't broken it. He hadn't broken the promise.

Was that enough to make Schlatt take him back?

Did he want to be back with Schlatt?

Well, it wasn't like Quackity needed Schlatt to take him back. He only needed Schlatt to talk to him.

"We can play it off as just an argument. A heat of the moment type deal. We play it off good... we just had an argument." Quackity finished, even to himself knowing he sounded unsure. He had flashbacks to him throwing his wedding ring on the ground, the knife being pulled from Schlatt's suit pocket.

How long had it been since that night? Quackity tried to count the days in his head. At least six... plus three... maybe another day... What day was it today? He had lost count of time. It had been at least a week.

Maybe that was enough time for Schlatt not to be still raging mad.

Who was he kidding?

"You don't sound too confident about that." Tommy squinted at him. "I need to know if you can pull this off."

"Uhhhh yeah. I'm confident. You bet I am." Quackity answered with false playfulness, trying his best. But the only thing in his mind right now was Schlatt's hot drunken breath up against his neck, whispering that one word in his ears.

Run.

The holes in his wings, despite the fact that he couldn't physically feel the pain, felt like a thousand pounds, his heart was beating so fast. But he had already made up his mind. He wouldn't let Wilbur destroy his nation, wouldn't let Schlatt drive it to ruin. So he needed to act. For the greater good, he would set aside his fear for the future of Manburg. He was willing to risk it all, he was never one to quit. He would risk himself, just like he had in the beginning.

Tommy frowned at him. "Listen."

Quackity didn't like the change in tone.

"Just a yes or a no... Do you think Schlatt still loves you?"

Wilbur perked up, even shifting his feet a bit as Tommy crossed into territory that he was maybe trespassing a little ungracefully.

Quackity smiled nervously, not letting them see how the question was close enough to send him into hysterics. "Uhhh hey dude let's not go into this alright-"

Tommy glanced over at Wilbur, avoiding his eyes. "Fine. Do you think you can at least get him to talk to you?"

This was an easier question to answer. "I can definitely do that. Yes."

Tommy nodded, looking around getting back on track. "Alright, so Schlatt doesn't know Quackity has betrayed him. But Schlatt, the one thing he likes is Quackity's fatass."

Quackity cringed. Schlatt definitely thought that he had betrayed him. Or maybe he didn't. He had said that he hadn't broken the promise. He didn't know what Schlatt was thinking.

"And yeah? What are you proposing?" Wilbur spoke for the first time, getting both Quackity and Tommy to shut up pretty quick and think about what they were going to say next.

After a breath of silence, Tommy picked up the question, saving Quackity from having to answer. "Here's the thing, we can get Schlatt to meet with Big Q at a date and a time, cuz' he is still referring to Big Q as his bitch. And you're not anymore Big Q! It's fine!" Tommy was quick to hold his hands out in defense, making sure he didn't get Q off on a tangent while he was on a roll. "But what we can do is use that, then-"

"Then we pop off like we don't know nobody."

Tommy wasn't a half bad speaker. It reminded him of Wilbur before.... Well, before he was insane. In theory, Tommy had an excellent idea for a plan, and had spoken well enough to spark a theoretical fire in the average listener's heart... if only his two audience members didn't consist of an emotional calloused insane man and a severely traumatized dude on crutches.

However the case, when it actually came to a detailed plan, Tommy hadn't really come up with anything solid. All the pressure had been left to Quackity.

The pressure of the responsibility that if his plan failed...

If Plan A failed....

Wilbur would detonate Plan B.

Quackity wasn't going to let that happen. He would make sure Marburg lived one more day. He was not letting it down. He was not letting his nation down.

Quackity had already left a message for Schlatt. He had already written the hard letter. He had sent it with Tommy to go deliver, to attach to an arrow and shoot it at his front door.

Tommy had managed to do it successfully, despite all the security that Tubbo had left and Schlatt was maintaining. Tubbo and Quackity had helped describe the weak spots in the security, but nonetheless it was a bit impressive. Tommy was a bit too good for his own good.

The letter was short and simple, despite the hours Big Q had poured over it, his hands shaking the whole time.

I'm sorry. I fucked up. But I haven't betrayed you. Please. Please just talk to me. Let's try to talk this out. It was a heated night, I said some things I don't mean. Please, just give me another chance.

If you want to talk to me, I'll meet you tonight. 8 pm. Our space.

Quackity didn't know if it was good enough. Convincing enough.

Everything he wrote could either be the death of Manburg, or it's prosperity.

He couldn't do anything about the letter. He had already sent it. Tonight was only supposed to be an introduction, to see if Schlatt was going to murder him on sight. It wasn't the night they planned on tricking him. However, despite this and the fact that Wilbur and Tommy had both agreed to wait in the background, ready to swoop in and save him, Quackity couldn't help but feel queasy thinking of walking back into the borders of his nation. Big Q was still out of commission. Still on crutches, his ribs still supposedly broken, Niki still giving him healing potions out of their deleting supply. 

He was scared Wilbur and Tommy wouldn't be fast enough to save him.

He was going to get ready. He needed to be at their spot ready to face him.

At the podium.

Jesus Christ, so many things had happened there.

But right now he just needed to focus on finishing the plan. He had decided that tonight he would ask Schlatt if he wanted to either have him make official documents either for divorce or his formal resignation as vice president, or if he wanted to make a document that pardoned Quackity. Either way, Quackity was going to find a way to make Schlatt sign a document.

A document that would be rigged so all power would be transferred over to Quackity.

He didn't know how he was going to do it. But out of everybody here, he was definitely most qualified. He had been to an upper level education, not having enough money to get in but getting in based on scores alone. He was one of the few, the first out of five that were granted the opportunity as a test pilot to a new program that was being run. He was extremely- and when he said extremely he meant extremely- lucky. With his newfound freedom to study whatever he wanted at a prestigious high level academy he had studied law. He had dreams for the future. Goals. But that was before he had realized how messed up the place was. He realized because of his entering status of somebody from a low class background it would be near impossible for him to get ahead in a world that was all about blood and magic and names and royalty. If you weren't born into it, it was near impossible to climb your way to the top. You were screwed. The system was fucked. It was fucked so that the shitty commoners stayed shitty commoners.

That's why L'Manburg had been so appealing.

It was a fresh start.

No royalty.

No bias.

No discrimination based on blood.

It was heaven for guy like him.

The minorities of the world.

The people the rich loved to tromp on.

Hell, Wilbur and Tommy and Tubbo, the original founders of their nation, had started out in a fucking van making drugs.

That. THAT was a country he could be proud of.

Not some long lasting historical sight that worshiped the gods and bloodlines and kept the peasants beneath the feet of the chosen few.

And that's why Quackity so desperately wanted to save it.

For it to be his.

He wanted his heaven to be safe. To be perfect. For people like him.

"Hey Big Q. You want to start getting ready?" Niki slightly opened the curtain door, peeking her head inside. "The sun is about to go down."

"Ah. Lost track of the time." Quackity wiped his sweaty hands off on his pants, before gritting his teeth and moving off the cot, grabbing the crutches and hauling himself up painfully. "What should I do? To get ready?"

Niki stepped all the way inside, frowning as she thought. "Hmmm... Well, if you had any makeup, I could try to cover some of those bruises for you. But I hadn't asked Fundy for any yet. And I guess you could wash up... but with that ankle it'd be pretty hard without help, and I don't know if we have time for that... Well... And... well, I guess you could change clothes. Do you think you would fit Wilbur or Tommy better?"

"Woah woah woah." Quackity laughed. "Please don't put me in anything of Tommy's. I don't care if Wilbur's stuff doesn't fit, I'm not wearing any of that gremlin's stuff."

Niki laughed, appreciating his joke. "Alrighty. But Wilbur's stuff might be way too big on you. Wilbur already wears pretty baggy clothes so..." Quackity walked forward on his crutches, watching Niki bend over under Wilbur's cot, pulling out a small chest and opening it to reveal fabrics inside. "Here. How about this?" She held up a big grey sweater, the thing kind of stylish and fitting to what Quackity might have picked.

"Ayeee you have good tastes Niki. One problem though." Quackity tilted his chin over at his wings, raising them in example. "I don't think these bad boys are going to fit in there without creating some massive holes."

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that." Niki brushed her hair out of her face. "How do you get your clothes on now?"

"Well, some of my clothes just have holes in them. But some also have zippers, some have like... buttons. I don't know- I guess just how you would imagine anyone with wings would put on clothes."

"Hmm. Well, I'm sure you can just rip holes into Wilbur's stuff. I'll make sure he doesn't mind." Niki folded up the sweater, placing it on the bed. "I'll leave you to change. The boys are already out there geared up. All we are waiting on is you."

Quackity smiled, the pit of anxiety growing larger in his chest. "Thank you Niki."

He watched her leave, looking over at the grey sweater she had left on his cot.

He felt so sick.

But he just needed to do one thing at a time.

Picking up his sweater, he prepared for the immense pain that this was going to be, dealing with his chest, his ankle, and his wings.

And his heart.

"Well... here goes nothing."

>{}<

Some time later, after much struggling, Quackity had not only managed to get into the sweater, but also up and out of the Pogtopia steps, had snuck with Wilbur and Tommy into Manburg itself, and had found a place to wait at the podium. And the best part was, he was still only in minimal pain!

At least, physical pain.

Tommy, Nikki, and Tubbo had all given him pep talks before. Had all given him words of encouragement. Both Nikki and Tubbo had said that if he wanted to pull out he could. Nikki's eyes had lingered on his neck, looking at the purple bruises that were there. Hopefully Schlatt couldn't see them in the dark.

But here he was, the sun already faded behind the horizon, the cold air seeping down his back despite the sweater he wore.

Would he actually come?

Quackity wouldn't allow himself to start to panic. Wilbur and Tommy were there, stationed strategically to help him. He wouldn't get hurt. He wouldn't die. They had already snuck into the borders and had lived so far. He couldn't die now.

Did he want Schlatt to come?

A part of him wanted him to.

A part of him never wanted to see him again.

He stood, his back up against the black stone walls, standing strategically so that nobody could see him from the ground below. Water gurgled from the two waterfalls from the front of the podium, leaking down into the glass covered pond. It was dark out, the starlight hidden by the black roof, but still a warm glow emanated from the back wall, the material made of glowstone and causing a slightly warm draft. It created golden luster on everything it touched, lighting up the back of the throne looking chair and casting long shadows. This place... there were so many bad memories here. This was his and Schlatt's place. This was the place that would be special enough to meet if he didn't acknowledge it by name. And any memory of Schlatt was enough to make him shiver. But it was also the place where Quackity had been burned and scarred, the place where Technoblade was forced to shoot Tubbo and got both him and Schlatt in the process. He closed his eyes, unable to stand on the same side of the podium where he stood that day. On the side where he had been knocked back, his skin sizzling in pain. No. He couldn't be lost in these memories. He needed to focus. He needed to be strong. He was ready. He was ready.

"Boy, do you look like shit."

His heart jumped, leaping into his throat. Schlatt's voice, even though it was nothing more than a mumble, was enough to shock his system, panic causing him to grip the handles of the crutches so hard that he might as well have just ripped them off. With an unsteady breath, Quackity watched as Schlatt stepped onto the stage, standing in front of the throne, his shadow casting onto the backside of it. He stood confidently, the warm glow gleaming on the edge of his horns, his eyes golden. He felt like he might throw up.

Tommy and Wilbur are here. Tommy and Wilbur are here. It's okayyyy it's okayyyy-

Quackity mustered up his best voice, cringing immediately at how scared he sounded. "Schlatt! Hey Schlatt. Hey."

Quackity couldn't see his expression in the darkness, and hoped that meant Schlatt couldn't see his.

"Alex."

The way he said his voice ripped him apart. It was if Schlatt actually cared for him. Like they were actually married. Not whatever was going on now. Him being hunted for his life. Quackity's ribs ached, the pain in his chest causing his other injuries to become much more apparent.

They stood, staring at each other, Schlatt waiting for Quackity to say something. But Quackity couldn't. His lips were shaking, and he was worried if he said anything now he would start breaking down. He couldn't. He was strong. He needed to do this. For his nation.

Schlatt reached into his pocket casually, a subconscious thing he had picked up while Quackity was gone for the last ten days. In his pocket, he ran his fingers over the small metal ring, the one that he kept on him at all times. The small ring for Quackity's small fucking hands. Well, at least small compared to his.

"Where the fuck did you get crutches from?" He spoke a bit louder, his confident voice filling the night air.

Right. Right. The story. The story he had planned earlier. He knew it by heart. But yet when Schlatt asked, he could help but trip over his words. "Oh uh," he laughed nervously, "Uh... I had... I had run. You know. Like... like you had told me. Ran." He swallowed hard, his voice numb with anxiety. "I ran until I found the road to the next town."

Schlatt shifted his hooves, causing Quackity's muscles to tense up in a fight or flight response. "Quit the bullshit." Schlatt's gravelly voice tore him up from the inside out. "I know the next town is at least a week away on foot. And you damn well can't fly right now. Don't try to pull that on me."

"No no no." Quackity hands were so sweaty. "You didn't let me finish. I had- uh. Started to follow the road to the next town when a traveling family found me and gave me a lift. Let me stay at their house. Got some healer to take a look at me. Then... as soon as their hospitality ran dry... I came back. Look- look I'm sorry- I'm sorry-"

Schlatt rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I know. I know you're sorry. I read your fucking letter. 'I didn't betray you?' What the fuck are you trying to pull?"

"I uh- Schlatt. I... well... let me explain...."

Suddenly, Schlatt started to walk forward to him, causing Quackity's eyes to grow wide and him to stumble backwards, his wings bumping into the black stone pillars. It wasn't an agressive walk by any means, but Quackity was just terrifyied in general. Ignoring his reaction, Schlatt squinted at him, standing close and leaning in closer. He was close enough that if Quackity reached out, he would touch him. Fear gripped his mind. He could handle seeing Schlatt from a distance. The couple feet was enough to keep him strong. But now... now his blood was frozen in his veins, his knees weak. "Sorry," Schlatt mumbled, studying his face as Quackity looked up at him in shock, "but your face is such a goddamn mess. I couldn't tell what I was seeing from over there. I couldn't stop staring. And your arms...."

Schlatt looked down to Quackity's wrapped hands, before doing something that was enough to make every single inch of his body go numb. Schlatt grabbed one of his arms, the crutch falling and clattering to the ground as he gently pulled back the grey sweater sleeve, revealing more and more white wrapped bandages. Quackity had to steady his breath, his lungs threatening to hyperventilate.

Every single place that Schlatt touched him burned with pinpricks of adrenaline.

Schlatt's warm fingers trailed up his arm, him studying it intently, a deep look of analysis set into his eyes. "Did you happen to get those when you fucking murdered seven members of my presidential security team?"

Quackity couldn't stop the sweat that was beading down his forehead. "What-?"

Schlatt didn't let go of his arm, Quackity's body now shaking. Wilbur and Tommy are here. I'm not alone.

"Took me by surprise when the report came back that they had been slaughtered. Now tell me," Schlatt firmly held his wrist, "where did you get the blade from? I don't believe you had anything sharp on you, all my men had their weapons accounted for? So who did it? Who took out my team that night?"

"I didn't- I didn't even see your team." Quackity stuttered, realizing he had forgotten a part of his story. "I ran. I ran so fast and so far that I just lost them. If- If they died like that it must've been a mob. Or maybe.... Maybe it was the resistance."

Quackity's heart raced, just like it had when he had ran for his life in the woods that night. He could still remember how close that one arrow had gotten to puncturing his head, instead landing and splintering the bark of the wood inches from his face as he tripped and fell to the ground. At the time he hadn't felt it, but that was when he had broken his ankle.

Schlatt frowned slightly, before letting go of his arm and picking his crutch back up again, not handing it back to him but resting it against the pillar that was only a couple inches from him. Quackity wished he had just given it back. He needed all the support he could get.

"Hmmmm..."

"What's- what's that supposed to mean?"

"I do agree that you are not strong enough to take out my men like that, trained as they are. You a fucking weakass flatty patty. So I guess I'll take your story as it is. For now."

The words were sharp, but Quackity was more focused on the physical side of things. Schlatt was still so close to him... Wilbur and Tommy, would they be able to get to them fast enough? "Schlatt- listen. I just- I just think maybe that night was a bit heated. Maybe I said some things... maybe you said some things.... And I just- I'm sorry, alright. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Quackity repeated the words, before a slight spark of pride was lit in his body. A bit of resistance. "Listen, but you're not in the clear either. You fucking took down the presidential house specifically to push me over the edge. If you knew it was going to push me over the edge, why would you expect me to not go berserk? Your logic makes no sense!"

Schlatt's docile mood changed, clearly Quackity had hit a nerve. Leaning forward, Schlatt towered above him, Quackity stumbled into the wall behind him. Fear pulsed through him, his head foggy and unfocused.

"Listen right fucking here Alex." Schlatt hissed under his breath his hot voice once again only inches from Quackity's face. Quackity tried his best to stay standing, his legs screaming as he leaned on the wall for support. "I could have had this entire area surrounded tonight, I could've had you arrested as soon as you set foot in Manburg, and we could be having this conversation in the prison right now, separated by bars. But I didn't. I'm not dumb, but I may as well be from how I'm letting you get away with this. And you don't think I knew maybe I was going too far when I destroyed your presidential house? But you want to know something else, Alex? Wanna know something else?"

Quackity clenched his jaw, trying to stop his breaths from speeding up. Even though he was right here, even though he knew Wilbur and Tommy were watching him, waiting to save him, he could stop the pure terror from washing over him.

He could taste the blood in his mouth.

See the sparks in his eyes as the barrel of the gun slammed into his nose.

The screaming of his lungs as Schlatt has choked him up against the wall, just like how Quackity had his back pressed up against the black stone now.

"I don't fucking trust you."

"For all I know, your story is complete bullshit. For all I know, you've been working with Pogtopia since the beginning. For all I know, you are planning to kill me this very second. And also! Also! You bring up a good point. I did expect push back from you. I was trying to get push back from you. But you fucking shot me. You tried to murder me. Don't fucking lie to me that it was an accident. I saw you make the decision. I saw your eyes. And yes, maybe you were backed into a corner. But you, in the end, you tried to kill me."

The words were like slaps to his face. His mouth dry, he tried to speak. "Schlatt- I- No- please-"

"Do you remember what I said?"

He was back to that night. He was back to the pure terror that clawed it's way down his throat as Schlatt had pulled out the knife, cutting his wings. 

Quackity wasn't able to stand any more. His ankle was about to give out. But Schlatt reached out, grabbing his wrists, holding him up and pulling him close to whisper in his ear.

"As long as you never betray me."

Quackity could taste the cold metal of the gun in his mouth, the force of the deadly weapon being shoved back into his throat, his jaw screaming in pain. 

"I had said that. Even before our promise."

Quackity could feel the phantom memories of Schlatt's warm hands across his back, the strong, deadly hands. 

Schlatt let go of him, let him fall down to the ground. "And you fucking shot me."

Schlatt walked away from him, pacing back to about where he was standing before, by the throne. "I've been betrayed before. I've been tricked before. It's why I'm so paranoid. So cautious." He monologue to himself, looking out over his own country. "But out of all the people in the world... out everybody in this fucking wasteland of a world... my very own husband."

His eyes found Quackity as Big Q was struggling to find both crutches and stand up once more. "My own fucking husband."

His fingers were back in his pocket, back tracing the ring that used to be on Quackity's finger.

The arrow wound in his side throbbed. 

Quackity let the words squeeze his heart, let the icy fear shock his system. "....Schlatt-"

"What do you want, Alex?" Schlatt raised his voice time for the first time in the entire conversation, walking once again closer. "Why are you here? Aren't you scared of me? Aren't you terrified?"

In his head he heard the click of the safety being turned off on the pistol.

"I was- Schlatt. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm-"

"What do you WANT?!" Schlatt was yelling, losing his cool. "What do you want? Want me to take you back? Want me to bring you back home? Want me to let you still be vice president? What do you want? And don't fucking say your here because of love. Love doesn't exist. The only thing... The only thing that exists are wants. So what do you FUCKING WANT?!"

Quackity was fucking terrified out of his mind. But he needed to... Wilbur and Tommy... He could.... "I... I want Manburg to be stable."

"That's all you fucking want? And what does that entail? Me fucking being removed from office? So you have fucking came to take me down tonight. Planning an assassination attempt, are we?" Schlatt laughed insanely, looking around into the distance spreading his arms wide. "Where are the fucking snipers. Come at me! Shoot me now so I don't have to listen to this goddamn son of a motherfucking traitor!"

Please don't shoot me please don't shoot me I promise I promise I don't want to die-

"No no no- no. That's not what I meant. I meant... I meant...." Quackity's fear was choking him.

"THEN WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!"

This was the plan. Quackity could recite the plan. Because he could pretend. Because right now, despite Schlatt using his name, Quackity could pretend to be Quackity and not Alex. Quackity and not Alex, Alex being the person who was absolutely shot through by Schlatt's words, who was terrified to the point of exhaustion. But he could be Quackity, the smart and strong law student who had a diabolical and manipulative plan he needed to pull off. "I mean that if you are going to... label me as a traitor... and strip me of my power..." Quackity continued, trying to gain confidence in his words, "then we need to do it the legal way with documents and such. Marburg is a new nation. We need to do things proper the first time so our identity is set in stone. I just- I thought that this could be... the last thing I did for you. I mean... I would write the papers... and you would sign it... It's the only way that this uh... whole thing goes down in a safe way that doesn't damage our Manburg's reputation. The history." Then he let the façade break, just a little. Whether it was on purpose or to manipulate him more, Quackity didn't know. But him speaking next, it definitely was a twinge of Alex. What Alex wanted. "I just- and like... if you want me.... Back... that's okay too... I just... I just was going to do this last thing then leave if.... If you didn't want me."

"... So your going to write your like... fucking letter of resignation?"

HIs wings shook. 

"I mean... yeah I guess so..."

"That's why you fucking risked your life for this meeting?"

"Listen listen listen." Quackity couldn't stop himself from trying to explain. "I uh... Manburg means so much to me. You know this. You know why. I've... I've told you... and I just can't... I just can't leave everything in shambles... you know? And uh... Schlatt. What I said... my wedding ring... do you really.... Do you really not believe.... That there was anything?"

Schlatt bit his lip. "What? Anything of what? That fucking icky gooey lovey dovey shit? Love? You're asking if I ever loved you?"

Quackity thought back. Despite all the bad. Despite it. He still remembered the first Schlatt he had known. The soft Schlatt that had stayed up all night watching crappy soap operas with him, even carrying him to bed when he had fallen asleep. The Schlatt he had ran with as Vice President after his own Vice President slept through the very election he was running in. 

"I uh-"

Despite all the good, Quackity was still terrified. He remembered what he had said. 

"I've done things that you could never even imagine." 

"No. Maybe." Schlatt looked away from Quackity, his hand in his pocket. "Maybe at one point I wanted you. But it was never love. Like I said, love isn't real dumbass."

The words throbbed inside of him. "You never... but... you wanted me?"

Schlatt scowled. "Don't make me fucking regret my words."

He had wanted him... 

No love...

But that was close enough...

"Schlatt..." Quackity could feel the tears prick behind his eyes.

"Oh come on. Just get fucking on with it. I'm actually listening to you now, now that I know you aren't wasting my time." Schlatt couldn't look at Quackity.

"So..." Quackity had to stop himself from asking more. For wanting more. He wasn't here to actually get Schlatt back. He was here to carry out the plan. "So I'm going to get these papers done... Do you... would you... while we are getting these papers done... where.... Where do you want me?"

"Well, I've labeled you a traitor to the nation. So it's either back into the forest you go or the prisons. Your choice." Schlatt's shadow followed him as he spoke.

"I- I'll go back into the forest... I'll have the papers done by Friday. We will meet back here Friday. At the podium. On Friday."

"Okay I fucking get it." Schlatt stopped him. "On Friday."

Quackity thought about how he would have to sneak back out. How he would have to work around security.

"And are your men... are your men still out to kill me? Do I need to be careful of them?"

Schlatt gritted his teeth, the conversation starting to make his own hands sweaty. "My men were never ordered to kill you."

"...What?"

"I know I said that they were going to kill you. But beforehand I had told them if anything went south, despite what I said, I wanted you alive."

Quackity couldn't actually believe what he was hearing. Quackity had always thought that Schlatt wouldn't hesitate... the next time Quackity would mess up would be his last. But... "Wait... really?"

Schlatt sighed, exasperated. "Those arrows, the reason they were only firing at you, the arrows were slowness arrows. You were never going to die. But it seems like you still find ways to slow yourself down even with none of the fucking arrows ever even touching you." He gestured to his crutches he was now standing on, the ankle brace he wore on his foot.

Quackity remembered Schlatt scowling at him as he scratched at his arms, complaining about how he was hurting himself as he led him to his medicine cabinet, wrapping his arms in bandages not unlike the ones he wore now.

"Schlatt..."

Schlatt grumbled, turning away from him and starting to walk off the stage. "Get out of here Alex. I don't want to see your disgusting banged up face anymore. Fucking crutches; your arms all wrapped up. Look like fucking shit. But... I'll see you Friday soon enough. Maybe... we'll see."

Quackity's heart filled with hope.

"See what?"

Schlatt stopped walking, looking in the direction of Quackity but his eyes landing on the floor just in front of his feet. "We'll see if there's still a way to redeem yourself yet. Maybe... we're still husbands, right? Even if it was only for power at first. It would look fucking terrible if we lived apart without a divorce. You know, to the public. So after we get the letter of resignation done, we can see whether or not you want to come and try... try to work things out or if you want to get started on divorce papers. But don't expect me to be apologizing. I still don't fucking know if I trust you. Your story is fishy as hell. And if you're working with Pogtopia..."

Quackity's stomach twisted. "I'm- I'm not."

"Well... if you aren't lying... maybe on Friday we can talk about maybe lifting the label as traitor and the arrest on sight bullshit."

"What are you saying?" Quackity's voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Oh, you know for goddamn certain what I'm saying. Now get out of my fucking face before I change my goddamn mind."

Quackity felt the tears in the corners of his eyes. "Schlatt... I'm... I'm so sorry."

"Stop with the fucking weak coward shit. Apologizing and shit. Just get the fuck out of here." Schlatt's grumbled, his hand coming to rest on the back wall as he stood at the exit to the podium.

Quackity was exhausted. His body was shot. All he wanted to do was collapse. "...Thank you. Thank you for not actually... you know... trying to kill me."

Schlatt looked back one last time, looked at Quackity standing, the warm light illuminating the purple bruises across his nose. God, he looked so small. So broken. Had he really done that to him? "Goodbye, Alex." Schlatt clenched his hands.

"See you Friday."

>{}<

The door swung open to the secret base of Pogtopia, Tommy whooping and hollering way louder than somebody in hiding should be.

"WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Niki and Tubbo, who had been anxiously awaiting their arrival back, stood to their feet, Niki calling out, "What's wrong?! What's wrong?!"

Tommy waltzed in before Wilbur and Big Q, holding Quackity's crutches, smiling wide. "Nothing! Everything is amazing! Big Q pulled through!" He walked off to the side, letting Wilbur and Quackity enter, Quackity being helped supported after having all his energy drained from him after the encounter. With a bit of help, he sat down on the cot, promptly flopping back in the bed and smiling despite the sweat that was still clinging to his hands.

"Yes I did man. I did it. I did it."

Tubbo smiled and clapped his hands cutely. "Yes! I knew you could do it!"

"Good job Quackity!" Niki congratulated him, knowing how hard it was for him. Out of everybody, she was probably the one who understood the best. "You aren't hurt, are you? Do I need to get the first aid kit?"

Quackity sat up, realizing that he wouldn't just be able to fall asleep as soon as he got back like he wanted. Looks like he would actually have to talk a bit. But it wasn't a big deal. "No. No, I'm just exhausted. But thanks. Honestly."

Niki smiled, pleased that he wasn't hurt. "So, how did it go! How did you do!"

Tommy jumped in, leading the conversation once again. "It was a bit intense. At one point Schlatt was practically this close to him, but Big Q did good! We got the meeting set for Friday!"

Tubbo looked at Quackity. "That's amazing dude!"

"It would be amazing."

Wilbur spoke, his arms folded across his chest, the air in the room dropping ten degrees.

"If only we knew that Quackity wasn't going to betray us."

Quackity was taken aback, the question freezing him in his spot. But he was so exhausted. He wasn't thinking straight. What did he say? "What-?"

Wilbur continued, his sharp bared teeth threateningly pulled back in a smile. "Tommy, I don't know if you were close enough to hear, but the things you said Quackity..."

Quackity's head hurt. He didn't have the energy- he just- "I was just- I was just acting! I was trying to get Schlatt to believe me."

Wilbur's eyes pierced him, looking straight into his soul. "Don't lie to me. The way you reacted to what Schlatt said... It was genuine. Even I could see that."

Everybody in the room was on edge. They didn't like what was going on. Tubbo tried to intervene, to take some of the pressure off of Quackity. "What did he say?"

"I didn't hear anything- I couldn't hear from where I was." Tommy added on.

Wilbur's cool voice was too much for Quackity. All he wanted to do was go to sleep. "Schlatt, all he had to do was open his mouth and I could see the way you practically folded under him again." Wilbur pushed at him, causing Quackity's heart rate to accelerate. "He has you wrapped around his finger. Even if you don't believe yourself to be a traitor, you could very well be one. When it comes down to it, would you be able to kill him? Or on Friday, if he offers you a place back home, would you take it? I saw the way you wanted him. You wanted things to be normal between the two of you. Even asked if he loved you. And you meant it. How are we supposed to trust you?"

What-

The words-

Quackity's head was shattered. He couldn't think-

"Wilbur!" Niki exclaimed, chastising him.

Tommy stepped between Big Q and Wilbur. "Dude, he... no. Quackity is putting up so much- Schlatt-"

Wilbur snarled, pushing Tommy aside. "I'm not talking to you Tommy. I'm not even talking to Quackity right now. I'm talking to A l e x."

Quackity was in shock at what was happening. "No. no-"

Wilbur hissed at him. "Will you be strong enough?"

"Stop!" Tommy grabbed at Wilbur's shoulder, trying to pull him back.

"I- I-" Quackity struggled.

Wilbur stood above him, the same shadow falling over him like Schlatt had done to him. "Or are you still his bitch?"

Tommy was yelling now. "Stop it Wilbur! Stop it! Quackity-"

Something had snapped inside Quackity.

He was done.

He was done.

He couldn't-

He fucking-

Standing up so that he was face to face with Wilbur, him still looking up because of the high difference, Quackity stared into Wilbur's eyes, fire burning in his heart. "That's enough Wilbur."

Wilbur didn't back down, looking back into Quackity's eyes, his lips pulling into a smile at the change of events.

"Are we really going to play this game?" Quackity laughed hysterically, not moving from his position. "After what I just went through for you? I literally put myself back in hell for this little rebellion- I don't need to be fucking here." He felt his exhaustion running him dry, the weight of what he had just faced making his heart cold and sharp. "I could just run away. Never look back. But I'm here. I'm here for my fucking nation. I'm here to defend what I love. And I can promise you- it isn't Schlatt. The goddamn son of a motherfucking bitch has fucked me over so bad..." Quackity spat, trying to keep his emotions from stopping him while he was going off. "He's- he's insane. I left him. I LEFT HIM." Quackity snarled, pushing Wilbur on the shoulder causing him to take a step back. Waving his finger in his face, Quackity let his rage build. "And I didn't leave him for another mad man. You haven't done anything to me yet, Wilbur, but get your fucking shit together. I didn't put up with Schlatt for so long just to be tossed around to the next insane madman." His heart thudded, his hands shaking. "You heard the things he said to me. And yeah, maybe I had folded a bit. Maybe I'm not strong enough to kill him. But that doesn't mean that I'm not with Pogtopia. I'm with you guys." His voice got higher, the hysterics setting in. "Am I not allowed to feel fear of the man that fucked me up so bad? Am I not allowed- Listen Wilbur... you're better than Schlatt. Even if your fucking out of your mind. At least you haven't- you haven't fucked over your loved ones yet." His breath started to get shorter. No. He needed to finish what he was saying before he broke down, he needed to say it. He needed to, if not for Wilbur for himself. "You haven't- you don't know what he's done to me." The memories were still hot on his neck, everything that had ever happened. "You think I would still betray you?!" The gun. "The people granting me sanctuary from him?!" The manipulation. "Look at me! FUCKING LOOK AT ME!" The knife. "My arms, my wings, my ankles, I'M ON FUCKING CRUTCHES BITCH!" He started screaming at Wilbur, tears in the corners of his eyes, his face flushed red. He didn't care that everybody could see him right now. That they saw him at his weakest. At his most vulnerable. Because he could only see right in front of him. At Wilbur. At the man who was dangerously close to being Schlatt 2.0. "The bruises on my neck, he- he" Quackity stuttered, his sorrow tightening as he reached up to his neck subconsciously, before his hands gripped his own shirt, holding it for support. "He fucking ch-choked me. CHOKED ME." Quackity's legs shook. "Fucking pinned me against the wall and forced a gun down my throat to make a fucking point. I thought I was going to FUCKING DIE." He stumbled, almost falling before Tubbo reached out to give him an arm. "And- and- You- you s-still have the AUDACITY to- to- fucking... fuck. Shit. Motherfucker. I- I-" He lost his steam, slowing down, tears now flowing freely down his face. Tommy helped grab his other arm, helping him stand up, but he was shaking so bad. It was all he could do to bite his tongue so as to not make any noise.

"Quackity?" Niki said his name, her voice nothing but a whisper.

Quackity's face flushed red, realizing what a fucking fool he made himself look like. Getting the last words at Wilbur, he spat on the ground at his feet. "Fuck you. F-fuck you Wilbur. Don't ever dare question my loyalty again."

Tubbo's face was close to him, his hands wrapped around his shoulder, trying to get him steady. "Big Q-"

Quackity pulled away from him, leaning into Tommy. "No." He hissed, tears falling off his chin. He stared into the wide eyes of Tubbo, the sweet kid just trying to help. "Fuck. Fuck. Sorry. I j-jjust- FUCK." Quackity ripped away from Tommy as well, stumbling into the wall and grabbing his crutches. He needed to get away. Anywhere but here. He couldn't stand to look at anybody's face.

"Big Q-" Tommy's voice was soft, unusually so.

"FUCK OFF!" Quackity yelled at him, his eyes bloodshot. "LET ME FUCKING GO!" Quackity turned his back on them, not looking at them again as he started down the stairs. He didn't know where he was going. But he was getting away.

Quackity could hear Niki's angry voice. "Wilbur- how could you?! That was going too far, Big Q-"

Quackity stopped at the top of the stairs, Tommy and Tubbo both following him. And when they saw what Quackity saw, they stopped as well.

Standing at the base of the ravine, in front of the fireplace, the fire roaring in front of him, stood a familiar face.

Well, not a face.

A mask.

"Hello?" Quackity's voice wasn't any louder the the roaring flames.

Tommy stood next to Quackity, his mouth wide open. "Dream?"

Wilbur pushed through the three of them, igniting Quackity's body at the brush of his shoulder as he walked past him and down the stairs, Niki trailing behind after him, reaching out and trying to grab him. "Dream! It's Dream!"

"Wilbur!" Niki hissed under her breath, but she stopped following him as he reached the end of the stairs.

The fire in the fireplace snapped and crackled, the man unmoving, his green hood up and the mask unchanging on his face.

Quackity could taste the bile in his throat. "What are you doing here?" He hissed, his voice weak and cracked from crying.

Dream's stupid voice echoed through the ravine, his voice almost overlapping itself in the cavernous echoing chamber. "Well. I was waiting here." He looked up at them, singling Quackity out with his stare. "But nobody of importance was home yet. And then once people did arrive, I didn't want to stop that touching show that was going on upstairs."

Quackity couldn't fucking breathe.

Tommy stepped out of the group, standing in between them all, drawing his golden sword and holding it level in a stance. "What do you want?"

Dream tilted his head, his arms crossed across his chest. "I actually came to tell you something." He hummed. "More specifically, I came to tell Wilbur."

Wilbur reached the bottom of the stairs, before dramatically flaring out his coat and giving a small bow. "Oh, Dream, my friend, what do you have to tell me?"

Quackity could hear everything. Tommy's heavy, steady breaths ready to fight. Tubbo's short breaths with long pauses in between, like he had forgotten to breathe. And Niki's muttering under her breath, her little thoughts almost being said aloud like prayers. He could hear the dripping of water deep in the cave, could hear the crackling of the smoking fireplace, and above all, he could hear the thudding of his own heart.

Dream spoke clearly and slowly, like he had all the time in the world. "Schlatt, in recent events that I have no idea what could have caused it," Dream's head turned back to the top of the stairs, away from Wilbur and directed at Quackity. He was looking at him. "Has turned to me for help, giving me something in return for defending Manburg."

Tommy shifted his feet, his souls digging into the dusty stairs. "What did he give you?"

Dream answered him, ominously. "Well, Tommy, I can't say what he gave me-"

"Disease? He gave you a disease?" Tommy talked over Dream.

Wilbur giggled, but Dream ignored him, his voice unchanging.

"No, no. He gave me something."

He let the word hang in the air.

"Something that means that I'll have to protect Manburg."

Protect... was this because... was this because of Quackity?

Tommy frowned. "So a disease. He gave you a disease."

Quackity couldn't handle it. "Ugh! Shut the fuck up Tommy not a disease. Dream... Why, why do you have to-"

Wilbur laughed, glossing over Tommy's and Quackity's comments. "You're such a little anti hero Dream!"

"No. Not really. Our agreement hasn't changed. You can still blow up Manburg if you want. I don't care. But I will protect Schlatt."

The name sent shivers down Quackity's spine.

Wilbur clapped his hands. "Alright! Awesome! We can go on with our plan."

Quackity stumbled, putting his hands out as he tried to intervene in the conversation. "Wait, elaborate. We are not following."

Tommy nodded, agreeing with Quackity. "What did he give you."

Dream spoke, with that disturbing voice of his. "He gave me a signature on an agreement."

"What was it? On what?" Quackity needed to know.

Dream turned away, the fireplace growing before him, like it knew what kind of power this man had. "Saying anything else would give things away but... here. As your good friend, I'll tell you a good willed word of advice."

They all held their breaths. Tommy tightened the grip on his sword.

"There's a traitor among you."

No...

"And the traitor among your ranks, it'll be even more surprising than Eret."

No-

"Just- just be weary."

Dream finished, looking up at them, watching all their reactions. Wilbur laughed, Tommy held his sword higher, and Niki grabbed onto Tubbo's shoulder.

No. It couldn't be true.

Quackity thought back to what Wilbur had said.

"How do we know you aren't the traitor? Even if you don't intend to be one, when you finally face Schlatt, would you be strong enough to kill him?"

No. No. It couldn't-

Quackity's emotions were already shot for the night. He had already had the pressure behind his eyes that happened after you've had a good cry. He already had the soreness in his voice. What he didn't need was the complete and utter stillness that Dreams warning had brought. Nobody moved. Nobody dared say a word.

"Good luck."

The four of them at the top of the stairs watched as Dream walked away without another word, him being satisfied that they had got the severity of his warning. The fireplace slowly extinguished as his steps got farther and farther away, him seemingly taking the light with him. They plugged into darkness, the only thing letting them see in the darkness the lanterns that dangled from the ceiling.

Nobody moved.

"Well- well I'm- I'm fucking going to bed. Nobody fucking wake me up unless we are all about to die." Quackity started the stumble down the stairs, Niki rushing forward to help him.

"A traitor?" Tubbos quiet voice asked, saying the one thing they were all thinking.

"A traitor." Tommy repeated, still standing in shock with his sword out.

"Listen. I don't fucking care what that green bitch had to say. I just fucking want to go to bed. You guys can deal with this... but I'm not touching this problem until the morning." Niki and him were at the bottom of the stairs, where Wilbur awaited them. "And you, bitch, don't ever question my loyalties. I know what than stupid bastard just said. But never forget this."

"Everything I do is for my country."


End file.
